These Lies We Live
by MorgeeLove
Summary: Going from mortal enemies to agreed acquaintances scared them both unimaginably, but, at the same time, it felt right. If only they knew what the other was up to.
1. Chapter 1 The name is Malfoy

These Lies We Live

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**Disclaimer : I own nothing to do with Harry Potter. Zilch. Nada. **

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Chapter 1 – Malfoy's the name

Why do people judge us on what we are? It's never who we are or what we do. The first impression is always about the way that we look, smell, even talk. They never look at what's really inside us and what's really worth staying for.

The small truth of it though, is that we all do it, by that I mean mis-judging the book by its cover, the person by their appearance. We humans, we all love ourselves, favour ourselves and defend ourselves. But when it comes down to the bottom of everything, everything we do depends on who we are.

Shy people spend most of their days, sitting in a corner, reading books, while the more courageous people party all night long. We have all had broken hearts and in return, have broken hearts ourselves. Humiliation and grief are the most common factors in life.

So cherish the times that you laughed and you felt like no one could get you down, remember that special person, remember their eyes, their hair, their voice and even their smell. Remember this, when you feel like the whole world is pointing and laughing at you.

The reason being in actual fact, we're all the same. Age, money, popularity, names, that isn't what matters. We are all the same, no matter what situation we are in. And remember the good times. I just wish that I could put all that shit into my own reality.

I've always been told the beginning is where to start, so we shall begin there. Though, I must say, the utter beginning starts before I was even born.

My family fucked up long ago. That's an illogique truth I have to live with every day. My grandfathers arsetard vision of a perfectly tarnished pureblood family, I believe, was always a sign he suffered from a case of gluttony smashed together (and I mean _smashed_) with narcissism. Obviously, the oh so righteous theorem of _inbreeding_ never crossed his shit hole of a brain; once.

Then, he had to go and make it _all better _and join the most notorious and conspicuous lick-shite-off-Voldermort-biggest-arsehole-ever's-duck flap-feet Deatheaters. Bloody brilliant that man, absolutely wonderful. Not to mention the sodding fact he went and got my own father branded with that sodding dark mark.

Then made him perpetrate to something _no-one, _so young, should ever have to deal with. Being forced to kill your headmaster must have been so fucking detrimental. No wonder everyone has it in their minds that our family are the most senseless ponce-heads to ever stalk this imprudent planet. But the funniest thing is I don't blame them what so ever.

Let me explain the utter rubbish that just came from my mouth. My grandfather, Lucius, reminiscent of my father and I, was born into the Aristocratic, pureblood and hoity-toity family called the Malfoy's. For that definite reason, I'm sure, he was probed into belief that we, accompanied with all other family's with "blood as pure as ours", were incalculably better than all others who "cowered before us."

So now, even though most girls clamour after me for my devilish wit and charm, I have to sit on the Slytherin table, and listen to people who say they are my friends (apart from Greg) telling me tentative shit about what other houses have said about me.

Unsurprisingly, most of it has spawned from the we're-so-brave-and-nothing-like-shit-shovellers-Slytherin-we'll-make-up-crap-about-you-all-day Gryffindors; Wankers. The comical part is that most of them have never even talked to me. Well, by that I mean a proper conversation.

I fall into the trap of being the book being judged by the cover because of my murder-worthy surname.

What goes around comes around. Don't you just adore Karma?

"Infatuating half bloods and filthy mud bloods!" the words still clamour around in my mind like a brass band. His haughty voice wound itself around the manor like a disease to a new born child. I never understood why, for such a small family, we resided in such extravagant living spaces. I knew it had accumulated more deadly memories than Hogwarts *cough cough* Voldermort. Ok, slight exaggeration, but if you get my drift?

Getting back to the point, Grandfather was lecturing me about the do's and don'ts of life in Hogwarts. And fretting around with those that didn't, per se, possess the same ranking in the social ladder as me, was top on the don'ts. What an arse of a way to be starting a new school, I remember thinking to myself. All I wanted to scream in his upturned face was:

"Do you not realise no one apart from you and your dumb-arse mind positively gives a shit!"

That, coming from an 11 year old ;dumbfounded to why his grandmother, father and mother, just sat there, taking in all that crap without a second thought. In all truth, I'd never seen any of them look so emotionless.

Mother and grandmother sat next to each other, platinum blonde hair cascading down their backs, blue eyes immersed with the grey flagstones, holding up no showcase of whatever was running through their minds. If it weren't for their faces and age, they could easily be twins. Almost identical sombre black dresses graced both of their slender bodies, because seriously, my family wears almost everything black, period. I mean seriously; who the fuck died that I don't know about?

Father was situated next to mother, a pale, elongated hand resting almost possessively on her thigh. His feverish, stoic grey eyes were flickering, I noticed, from me, to grandfather, to the floor simultaneously. His receding slick of, also, platinum hair was combed back from his porcelain face, his pointed chin giving him the resemblance of a spooked cat.

Not that I ever told him.

A horrendously expensive suit clad itself on his now, not-so, muscular body. The suit was black, of course. Did I tell you about by theorem?

Then there was Grandfather. He reminds me of a sick vampire; one that hasn't eaten for years. I'm quite surprised they let him out of Azkaban, and I seriously hope they send him back there, instead of .

I tell you though; it did turn him into a dishevelled, ball-less, senseless piece of crap; for about a week. But his looks never did recover. Grandfather, the old fart, has an endearing bald head, which the light of the fire was dancing over.

He was residing in his favourite armchair, sitting directly opposite myself who was occupying the adjacent seat. He had one miniscule eyebrow cocked; his pale elongated fingers caressed the (black) wand in his pocket. His drawn cheekbones, sharp nose and blazing grey eyes were staring directly at me. I'm surprised his lips could actually talk so much, they're that thin.

Thank whatever is above me for gracing myself with my mother's beauty. No girl in their fucking mind would come anywhere near me if I resembled an inch of my grandfather. Fact.

So that is how, I, Scorpius "sexgod" Malfoy, ended up sitting in this exact green armchair (wow, it's not black) trying to drown out the dumb-arse voice of my Grandfather, sitting _directly_ opposite me, giving me the same shitty lecture he has been doing for the last 5 years. 6th time round, sounds so fucktastic right!?

Right now, I think he's spouting on about "controlling my hormones" now I am coming round to being of age.

For fucks sake, try telling me that 2 years ago you nugget.

I'm not even joking now.

In all reason, I'm pretty sure Grandmother and Mother have asked him to tell me this crap. Our family isn't very soul spill. No way. Grandfather probably gets the fact I "Whomped my Willow" long ago, judging by the look he's giving me.

Then, he does something I would have bet all my money on him never ever doing; seeing as he has the emotional range of a chicken egg.

He chuckles. But as soon as I tear my vision away from his eyes and to his mouth, it's gone as quickly as it came.

Now that's something they should write about us in Hogwarts: A History.

Besides, I'm sure he's actually quite besotted with the fact his own grandson got laid aged 14. Fuck the world. By the end of the week, no doubt everyone grandfather talks to will know this. Great. Fucktastic.

After another half an hour the old git let me go to pack my stuff for school. Does he forget the fact we have house elves?

I guess he got the gist that I wanted to get the bloody hell away from all of them. I had copied grandfather's cocked eyebrow and blazing eyes.

He could tell I was shoving his shit in his face. He was just oozing "Scorpius, you are the biggest disappointment of my life."  
Pshh

Like I give two wanks.

A sharp rap just rung through my bedroom.

"Come in." I drawled flatly. I didn't bother getting off my bed. I'm just lying here, waiting for whoever deems it needy to talk to me.

"Scorpius, sit up." I hear my father drawl in a way entirely different from myself. I get up. His tone wasn't pretty. I bet you 10 galleons right now, he's about to tell me how disappointed his is in me for loosing my flower at such a young age.

"I want to talk about what your Grandfather said." He states flatly, grey eyes burning loopholes through my head. Avada me now! Did he just say ... _talk_?

In all honesty, I'm stupefied. But I'm a Malfoy, _lay_ _it on thick Scorpius, lay it on thick._

I cock my eyebrow and smear our trademark smirk across my face. "Talk about what, father?" I challenge. Bring it on.

"I want you to know, don't listen to a thing he says; unless it's truly worthwhile. I made that mistake 25 years ago and look how it's left me." My father whispers, there's almost a hint of longing and sorrow in his voice. Though, his same steely expression gives away nothing of the sort.

I look my father in the eye, I almost feel sorry for the old man I mean, the fact that he just told me that is, well, so _un_-Malfoy. Moreover, the reason for his big fat fail in fatherhood is no fault of his own. Come on, Lucius Malfoy is his father. Lucius Malfoy is the fucking reason my father turned into a nervous shit behind closed doors. I have a knack for listening into his and my mothers conversations.

But now, in all reason, I have not a clue what to say for the first time in my life. So I lie back on my bed and mumble "mhmm." God Malfoy, what the hell's wrong with you?

"The thing is Scorpius; I really wish I could turn back time and make everything better for you. But I can't. It must be hell in school, I understand completely. Which is exactly why, I want you to know, I really don't give two about who you're friends with ok?" he said again, in the same sorrowful whisper as before.

"Ok, father." I drawl again, this time I just stare at the ceiling. _Don't act surprised, Malfoy, keep pretending. You're completely at ease._ Yeah right.

Then he absentmindedly scratched the arm I knew was burdened with that bloody dark mark. There's just a scar now; now that Voldemort's dead. But all the same. Now, the door was closing and I'm left here, lying back on my bed again.

What a great Father-Son bonding session. I now owe you 10 galleons.

If only I was like _her_.

Perfect parents, who _saved_ the world. Plus, she's got so many fucking cousins running around Hogwarts; she has _no idea_ what it's like to be lonely.

And I'll never admit it out loud, but she's bloody gorgeous. Funnily enough, she doesn't really look like any of her cousins. Her name just oozes beauty. Rose. She's got the perfect body. She's not model tall so that I can't look down on her, but she's not so small that she's looking at my stomach when she talks to me.

Her luscious chocolate hair has loose curls draping themselves around her amazing face. It's always fluffy and messy, like she's constantly running her hands through it. I often find myself wondering what it would be like to run _my_ hands through it. Her lips are full and pouty, and I always have to fight the urge to go and kiss her whenever she bites her lip.

They always say eyes are the way to someone's soul. In my case, every time I look into her big, brown eyes, all I see is this emotion I can't decipher, crossed with pure and utter abhorrence. Every time I look into those big brown eyes; I want to scratch them out. She scares the shit out of me, and she infuriates me more than anyone I know (excluding Grandfather) That's one thing she inherited from her family, her arrogant temper.

I groan. Why can't this just be easy? Father's right, school is hell, with her walking around me and I know I'll never be able to be with her. She's a Weasley.

God, these lies we live.

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**So, I know what you're thinking, why a Scorpius/Rose story with no Scorpius and Rose?**

**Here here, but it'll get there. You gotta let the story do what it gotta do.**

**Review? x**


	2. Chapter 2 Yes I'm Rose Weasley

These Lies We Live

**Disclaimer : I own nothing to do with Harry Potter. **

Chapter 2 – Yes I'm Rose Weasley

A perfect family, a perfect life, perfect parents. That's what everyone thinks I am.

I hate the way people automatically think they know me because of the fact I'm always in the_ Daily Prophet,_ and countless other newspapers. They have no idea.

No-one has a bloody clue; apart from Al, my closest cousin. He knows nearly everything.

Like he knows how much I hate the way I look: my stupid hair and my face that possesses not a single freckle. The fact I look so small standing next to my cousins, the fact I look nothing like my cousins. The fact that because I'm the love child of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley means I should be absolutely perfect 24/7.

Perfect grades, perfect friends, perfect studying techniques. Fuck my sodding perfect life. Let me explain, though I doubt highly that you don't have a clue what I'm going on about.

When my parents and Uncle Harry were 17, so a year above me in Hogwarts, they were set the inconceivable task of finding the Horcruxes which contained the soul of the twat who was Voldermort. Thank god they found them and killed him. The thing was they nearly didn't, because of those arsetard Malfoy's. All I know was mum nearly _died_ in sodding _Malfoy Manor_. That's enough for me to hate them forever. W-A-N-K-E-R-S.

I appreciate what Uncle Harry and the last generation did for us, I really do. It's just; the thing that really gets on my wick is they think they're so much better than _everyone_. The fact that everyone thinks they _are _so much better than them. The way they nod at everyone who says their name in public, smiling like their best friends. The way I have to do that too. The way they treat us lot at home like we do absolutley nothing good. They have no idea. They don't live with them; all they do is read about them in history books! And the thing I hate even more is the conversation I'm having with my parents right now.

"Rose, seriously, listen to us." My mum pleads. She's sitting on the red sofa next to my dad, right opposite me. Her frizzy brown hair's shrouding her face, eyes ablaze. I'm sitting in the red armchair adjacent to them, pretending I care about the shit they're currently trying to skewer into my mind. I raise my eyebrows.

"Mum, I'm listening!" I cry with my arms outstretched. _Shove on the drama Rose, shove on the drama _I think.

"Don't talk to your mother like that!" my dad's endearing voice clouds the room like smoke. It's my turn to glare at him. His furious red hair nearly matches the fire, his blue eyes are flickering from the flames and, I'm sure, angst. Dad's left arm is lying heavily over mum's shoulder, trying to provide some sort of protection I guess.

"Sorry, so sorry, that I'm your biggest disappointment ever." I mutter, granting the fireplace my stubborn glare. I was not going to let them get to me. Not again.

"Look, you know we love you, it's just seriously, an A in Divination. Plus your behavioural roll isn't exactly pristine. All we're trying to say is be careful Rose. You only get one chance, so please, take it seriously love." Mum cooed. She knew she'd upset me, she was trying to get back my affection. It wasn't working.

"So now who's the hypocrite!?" I screamed .Ok, they just got to me. God, where did I go wrong? Crucio me to death now! This was the conversation I had been avoiding all holiday, ever since I got my O.W.L results. Straight O's, excludes divination. For fucks sake! Why it was James or Hugo or Al could cloud up their mind with women and quidditch, and I got the god damn earth smashed in my face for getting _an A! _

"What ever do you mean?" Mum gushed. She knows exactly what I mean.

"I mean, the fact that _you_ bunked divination! You're not exactly in the position to be telling me to take it seriously, are you?" I'm screaming again. That is complete utter truth.

I just looked at Dad. His hair is now not only the same colour as the fire, but as his face too.

"For fucks sake Rose, you have no idea what it was like to be your age being Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger!" Dad pummelled with his voice. If sounds could kill, the whole world would be dead.

"Well, I'm sorry Dad, but you have no idea what it's like to be my age and be _your daughter_!"

I just nearly exploded with angst, there was that much anger it that sentence.

I've never been an angry person, apart from when it comes to Malfoy. Wearing an impassive mask is my skill of choice. It's just when it came to situations like this, I really lose my temper.

I can feel the stupid Weasley blush infecting my face like impetigo or something. I can almost feel the same blush pulsating of my Dad. Of all the things I could have inherited, I had to inherit this. God, I can't stand this any more!

You know what, its school in less than 24 hours. I can't stand any more of this shit. So I run upstairs and collapse on my quilted bed. Gretta, my miniature owl, flies from her perch and nibbles at my ear. I love Gretta. She's the only being in the whole world that knows when I'm upset. Apart from Al, or Louis.

If only she could talk. Heck, if only anyone could talk. Don't get me wrong, I have loads of friends, but that word is a phrase that is entirely overrated. You see, for the likes of me, Al, James, Hugo, Lilly or the rest of the Potter-Weasley clan, finding friends in Hogwarts was never a hard task. In fact, they more or less came running to us, some num-skulls even waving autograph books in our faces. Worse still were all the cameras. I thought I was going to have a seizure, there were that many.

Boys are even easier; sure I've had the boyfriend here and there, missing the beginning of class because someone's been snogging my face of, sure. But, boyfriends or friends it's never real. I wish I could start all over again.

Talking about starting, I remember the first day of school so clearly, they've probably stuck it Hogwarts: A History. We (Mum, Dad, Hugo and I) were standing in the fog, by the very last carriage of the Hogwarts Express. I was already wearing my new robes, I was that that ecstatic. Mind you, I was a bit of an air head then. Al walked over to me, looking extremely relieved. He'd owled me during the holidays, all wound up because James was getting it into his mind that he would get placed into Slytherin. I said shit.

After a wondrous conversation about Dad passing his driving exam, I got told I would be disowned if I didn't get put in Gryffindor. I remember telling Al I now knew exactly how he felt. Mum and Aunt Ginny tried to shake it off, but I remember feeling like a senseless trembling piece of crap. I wish I could of told myself to grow some balls, because seriously?

Well, Al and I haven't been disowned, so you can guess which house we both ended up in.

After all that, 3 blonde's emerged out of the smog that was shrouding platform Nine and ¾. One man, tall and holding his grand stature, one woman who I assumed to be his wife, platinum blonde hair cascading down her back, and one boy, shiny blonde head reflecting the little light that came down to the platform. The man turned to our group and nodded curtly. Dad's next gesture's told me exactly who these people were; The Malfoy's.

His grip tightened on my shoulder and he said under his breath "So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank-God you inherited your mother's brains."

I cringed at him using my pet name. In normal circumstances I would have thwacked the person who said that right where it hurt. But I let Dad off; it was like a comfort I knew is always there.

"Ron, for heaven's sake" my mum's half stern, half-amused voice channelled through my head. "Don't try to turn them against each other before they've even started school!" I knew what that meant before the next comment strolled into reality.

"You're right, sorry." My dad cowered "don't get _too_ friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood." He finished, quite satisfied with himself. I thought this last comment rather hypothetical, as Granddad Weasley and my Dad are both Purebloods. But I got what they were saying.

Besides_, I'd _never forgive myself if I got _too_ friendly with a Malfoy. I'm sure my whole family would be rather jovial with that thought. Oh, think about it! For _once_ I wouldn't be a let down!

Rather sooner than I expected, that relationship of revulsion was set in stone. I was shitting myself, along with Al. We were on our way to be sorted, when I heard the most imprudent drawl I have ever heard burrow itself into my ears.

"Oi, Weasley, Potter." I knew who it was before I had even turned around. When I did, boy was I pissed off. No-one calls me that, in a voice like that; no-one.

This was exactly what I told his stupid stuck up face. Since then, all it's been is swear words and insults: period. Since then, he's all I think about.

Why why why?

Why's he so gorgeous, why's he so annoying and imprudent. Why does he make be blush every time he talks to me, but that blush turns into me wanting to scratch his goddamn eyes out?

Merlin, why everything? Like why am I lying on my bed, thinking about _him_?

If only I was like _him_.

No siblings, no one trying to get into his head every 5 seconds, knowing it's fake. Plus, he's got so many fucking z cup girlfriends running around school; he has _no idea_ what it's like to be lonely.

And I shouldn't be saying this, but he's bloody gorgeous. He looks just like some model that would be completely at home on some gigantic billboard, his bloody smirk plastered all over his face. He's got the perfect body, you can see his muscles through his quidditch uniform; not that I look. It pisses me off that he's just that much taller than me, so whenever I want to slap his pretty face, he just steps back and inch and I slap thin air.

His perfect hair is always so silky and arsetard shiny, I wonder if he charms it. He's forever running his hands through it, or letting some blonde bint run her hands through it. It mentally kick myself when I imagine myself being that blonde bint. His lips are full and masculine, complementing his aristocratic cheekbones, and I always have to fight the urge to go and kiss him whenever he smirks.

Whenever I look into his grey eyes, flecked with blue, they're dripping with this seething anger crossed with something that I can't work out; so much for seeing into the soul. But then, every time I look into those conspicuous, unnerving and entrancing eyes, I want to carve them out with a spoon. He scares the shit out of me, and he pisses me off more than Hugo on a bad day. I guess that's one thing he inherited from his family, his arrogant temper and bad language.

I groan. Mum's words ring through my head: "All we're trying to say is be careful Rose. You only get one chance, so please, take it seriously love."

One chance; to do what exactly? I pull my duvet over me. How will I manage with him walking around? He's a Malfoy. He's Scorpius Malfoy. Fuck, this year's going to be an interesting one.

God, these lies we live.


	3. Chapter 3 Scorpius, Loved and Loathed

**Disclaimer : As much as I wish it is true, my name isn't J. and I definatley do not own Harry Potter.**

Chapter 3 – Scorpius, Loved and Loathed

_I was running, running so fast I swear someone had cursed me. The halls were gloomy and the air was cold as it hit my pale face. Platinum blonde hair was shrouding my vision, and I brushed it aside, realising it was my own. There was purple gloop dripping from patches on my white shirt and emerald tie. I could feel the warmth of it through my shirt, it was probably fresh from a cauldron. Some trickles had even made it down onto my trousers. I come to the end of the corridor and know I'm snookered as rapid footsteps approach me from behind. I turned and saw a furious brunette screaming my name. Her face was as red as her scarlet tie, and her wand was raised, aimed at my face. The same purple gloop was splattered across her uniform, and a small droplet was running down her cheek. I had to suppress myself form going and wiping it off of her pretty face. I raise my own wand, half in fear and half in humour. "Scorpius!" She yelled._

"Scorpius, Master Scorpius!"

"Christ alive Nora!" I cried, at the bug eyed elf blinking innocently in my face.

"Nora is sorry to awake Master Scorpius! But Mistress Astoria told me to wake Master Scorpius at quarter past the hour, sir." She squeaked. Merlin, how did I forget? The first day of Hogwarts is today. Oh, Voldepoo.

I glance at the clock; exactly 6:15 am.

"Cheers Nora, you can go now." I yawned, shooing her with my hand. The first day is always the worst.

New classes, new first years, new rounds and a new quidditch team.

Not to mention that N.E.W.T's are next year.

With all the energy I can muster, I clamber out from under my sheet, my bare chest greeted by the cold morning air. I shiver as my bare feet hit the stone flagged floor, and I run my hands through my hair, blowing out a sigh I didn't realise I had been holding.

I absolutely loathed going back to school. On that shitty train, with its dumb-arse carriages; that just stunk of age. Not to mention the fact I just sit there, pretending to be interested in Greg Zabini's ranting about how many girls he managed to shag over the holidays.

I sigh again, as I make my way to the shower. Today was going to be a bloody long day.

A cold shower, mirror admiration and breakfast later, I'm standing in the entrance hall, in my new shiny dragon leather shoes and crisp white shirt. My hands are burrowed deep in the pockets of my tailored trousers, and I can feel my emerald tie balled up in one of my fists.

I can also feel the smooth curves of an inscribed badge pinned to the tie. Damn, why did I have to be the _lucky_ few to have one of those?

I'm probing a piece of toast from between my teeth, when I hear a sharp rap of heels on stone, and I straighten up, greeting my mother with a half-hearted flash of my pearly whites; hopefully minus the toast.

She greets me with the same.

_Score, no toast._

Her hair is scraped up into a tight bun, and yet again, a black outfit is gracing her frame. This time it is a jacket and pencil skirt, and I can see her hefty wedding ring glinting in the morning sun.

"Must you always stand so antisocially?" she questions, raising an eyebrow as she does.

"Sorry mother." I state moodily. It's not exactly antisocial is it? But no, etiquette is everything in Malfoy Manor. How could I forget? Pshh

In defeat, I pull my fists out of my pockets, leaving my tie behind.

"That's fine, darling." Mother coos, her pursed lips tantalisingly close to a smile. Her blue eyes focus on the door. No emotion there, per usual.

"Your father has gone to work, he will not be accompanying us this morning, and your grandfather and grandmother have resided to their country home. It will be only the both of us this morning."

I notice the way she sounds relieved when she talks about grandfather. I'm feeling exactly the same. All I'm feeling is thank Merlin.

"Apparating?" I question, knowing the answer before it comes.

"Yes darling." Mother states again. Merlin, why the heck is this family so hollow? Though, I say family. I place one of my pale hands on the head of my bulky trunk, my broom case under my arm and hook the other through the crook of my mothers arm. She's tentatively holding my owl cage away from her. Not that I'm complaining, Rufus is a rather restless tawny. No sooner than you can say Bogart, invisible bars crossed across my chest and I felt them constrict my airways, and I was salvaging all that was left of my last breath.

No sooner than it had begun, our feet were landed on a damp alleyway floor, trunk thudding with a bang next to me. Damn this place stinks, the same stink I've had to endure every sodding year; one more to go. Mother turns sharply on her heel, and I'm following her suit.

As we exit the gloomy alleyway and out to the entrance of Kings Cross train station, we're greeted with a host of stares and furrowed brows. Shut your mouths, dumb muggles, have you never seen an owl before?

Or maybe it's me and my handsome face they're staring at? I hope it is. I shift my broom to under the crook of my right arm, relieving my left arm from the tug of the hefty case.

No sooner are we inside the crowded entrance hall, mother's grabbed a trolley and is already steering me towards the barrier. Her heels are still clacking on the floor, she's walking almost model like next to me, and free from the demon she calls Rufus.

Still more gapes and furrowed brows.

"Off you go." She says, one hand on my back as though I don't have a clue what to do.

"Off I go." I grumble back, signalling to her I'm off. I'm feeling like such a fool, running like someone who's been crucioed into insanity.

I pray no muggles see me as I feel myself swallowed up by the wall, then shunted out onto the hidden platform, tossed here and there between old witches in pointy hats and robed adults hugging their precious first year children before they board the train.

Oh please.

"Have a good year darling!" my mother high voice presses from behind me. I snap around and for the first time that day manage a real smile.

I can feel her peachy hand on my shoulder, and it briefly sits on my head and ruffles my hair.

"I will do mother." I press back. I can feel my smile fading as I twist back round, facing the scarlet _Hogwarts Express_ before me.

Bring it on.

All my stuff is resting precariously on the overhead shelves. Most importantly, my broom case is secure and safe, with the aid of a shielding charm. What would my father say if I broke that?

Actually I have a funny feeling it would be _"I shall just buy you another."_

My owl is going mad, and I just managed to shut him up with Silencio. Remind me again why I'm on this train?

I don't bother trying to wave goodbye to mother, I know she's gone already. Besides, there's so much smog and whiny first years and their parents smothering the platform, I have no hope if she was there. My parents have never stayed to wave me off, with the exception of my first year.

Still, you can t dwell on the past.

Apart from there's one person I do spot. And she's not the person I'm looking for. _Definitely_ not the person I'm looking for.

I spotted her because of the fact she's laughing around with her ridiculously large family.

I'm getting this weird feeling when I see her hugging her cousin. Are those two ever apart?

Her messy hair was framing her face, and she seemed tanned compared to last year. I can see that, like me, she was wearing half of her school uniform already, a scarlet badge pinned half-heartedly to her grey cardigan. I'm pretty sure she was looking forward to rounds more than I was myself. Merlin, she looks so amazing, and she's doing absolutely nothing.

But now she is doing something.

Hang on...

Oh, craptola, she's looking at me. Think fast Malfoy.

I shove my middle fingers up at her; _very grown up, even more sophisticated than your grandfather. _

She returns the favour.

I can hear three familiar voices behind me. Ha-ha, let's see what that Weasel thinks of this.

Greg Zabini rolled open the carriage door, with his arm candy, Sophia Harolds, nearly attached to his face, until:

"Ay up Malfoy, good holiday?" his masculine voice slunk through the carriage.

I was just about to reply, but Sophia's just jumped in and is currently gnawing his face off.

Then, the third person, and the epitome of all fakery...

"Huuuunnyy! I missed you sooo much baaaabby!" comes a prissy, girly voice. Oh bleeding sodding hell. There's only one girl who drags her words like that, and she is...

"Brittany Gomshaw, the blondest girl in Slytherin, I, eh, missed you too, princess?" I coo, winking at the last statement. That was so not me, blimey when did I bash my head? The thing is though; I don't care, because every time I've done this to a girl, it's been fake.

I expect every time I do this to a girl, it will be fake.

"Aww, Scorpy. I can't wait to get my hands on you, that's how I am!" she whispers in my ear, wrapping her obviously fake tanned arms around my neck. In the name of Thestrals, does she not get the fact I'm only with her for, err, her body?

Scrap that, we've never been an item, just this blonde bint that stands before me assumes we are.

And come on, _Scorpy_?

Obviously none of this passes through her minute mind, as a gush of heavy perfume intoxicates my airways. I pull Brittany towards the window and lay my smirk on her sticky pink lips, clutching her scantily clad frame in my arms. She kisses back, prodding her tongue into my mouth.

I just nearly wretched.

_Merlin that was disgusting_, I think as I pull away and plaster on my best, _Merlin I didn't see you there_ look right across my face, aiming it directly where it needed to; right towards the girl I had just stuck my middle fingers at.

Before I've even turned towards the window, I can feel what is ridiculously close to a smile toying at my lips.

But what is staring me right in the face is the most revolting thing I have ever seen.

Even beating what I just did with my so-called girlfriend.

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	4. Chapter 4 Gryffindors Golden Girl?

**Disclaimer : Harry Potter ain't mine.**

Chapter 4 – Gryffindors Golden Girl?

"Stuff it, bitch." I groan, as I smack my alarm clock silent.

The day had finally come, called going back to school. I only remember liking this day once, and that was now 6 years ago. From experience, I knew today would be a long one.

I was looking forward to one thing; reuniting myself with Al. It sounds stupid, but being away for 2 weeks in Boise without him had left me with no-one to express my utter annoyance with. I just had to make do with getting mum to charm my skin so my tan stays longer.

I growl as I stretch my little legs under my patchwork quilt, pushing it off my body as I did so. I slid into my slippers and shuffle half asleep towards my bathroom door, completely misjudging the location of my hefty trunk and thwacking my shin on it.

"Eff you, you shitty son of a Deatheater!" I growl again, clutching my leg. I am definitely not a morning person. I run one hand sub-consciously through my messy hair, as I switch on the hot shower. _Get ready for a long year Rose, get ready_.

"Rose, Mum says get your arse down here now!" I hear the voice of my tentative brother Hugo pierce its way into my bedroom. I remember the conversation I had with my parents last night, and realise they're trying to avoid another argument.

"For Merlin's sake Hugo, I just said I'd be down in a minute!" I boom. Right now, he's pissing me off in a way that rivals Malfoy.

1

2

3

...

"Rose!" my mum cries. Jeez, does she realise how aggravating her voice is? Or maybe she does and she just over uses it to annoy the crap out of me.

"Okay, okay!" I shout back, bloody hell. I give myself the once over in the mirror; though I have no idea. It's not as if I'm trying to impress anyone, is it?

My pleated skirt and tights are as black as each other. The hem of my blouse is hanging over my waist band, a thick grey cardigan hugging my shoulders, reaching to just below my bum. I ran a hand through my messy hair and dabbed on a bit of mascara and lip balm. Ugh, to hell with it I think as I squirt some perfume on my neck - might as well go the whole hog? Then, I run cursorily down the stairs, trunk, broom and Gretta in tow. Better not start another argument.

Mum's standing tall and stern at the bottom of the stairs, hand on hip, lips pursed. She holds out a piece of toast, to which I mumble "cheers" and grab it between my teeth. Ha, catch me now woman. I rush over to the door and hook it open with my shoeless foot. I slip on my dolly shoes before bustling outside and handing over my trunk, broom and Gretta to my dad.

"Morning love." He beams; obviously he's got over what happened last night. Dad's great at stuff like that, it makes me love him even more. That is unless I'm angry with him. I've always wondered whether it's it is because he just doesn't care or he has a memory with the storage capacity of a sugar lump; that I'll never know.

"Morning Dad!" I chime back, granting him a big grin after I take the piece of toast from between my teeth. I notice Hugo's stuff already in the charmed boot of the car, along with that stupid lizard of his, which he self-effacingly named "Hugo". What a tard.

"Come on Rose, hop in the car." Comes my mum's voice, over the jingling of keys in locks and protection spells. Merlin, it's not like Bellatrix Lestrange is cackling about on a broom, firing avadas at free will. I strap myself next to Hugo in the back seat, who was reading Quidditch through the Ages, which he received for his birthday. I guffawed. This was the first time I had ever seen Hugo reading anything...decent.

"What?" Hugo said, not moving an eye from his book.

"Oh, nothing." I say in wonder and utter confusion. We're not even in Hogwarts and something has changed.

"HERMIONE!" comes dad's brash voice from some somewhere outside of the car. "Love, we are going to be late!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. God, could you just get your red head in the bleeding car?" I can hear my mother's voice squealing. I told you they think they're so much better than everyone. Then I hear muffled voices, and turn to look out of the window.

What do I find? My Mum and Dad engrossed in a bit of lip sex. Laavley; just what you need at seven thirty in the morning. I open the door, _time for a bit of their own medicine_.

"Mum, Dad, would you please get your red and brown heads in the car. We are going to be late!" I yell, and notice Hugo tears his beady eyes from his book. Mum and Dad immediately disentangle themselves from each other, both of them blushing furiously, Dad most of all. I can feel Hugo and myself laughing. Both of them hurry into the black Mercedes, knowing full well that the Potters will know about this _very_ soon.

"I, eh, Rose, you, urm, you forgot this." Mum stutters, and hands me over a crest shaped badge with the word Prefect inscribed on it.

Shit, I had forgotten about that; for a good reason. I pin it precariously on my cardigan, and after long last, bite into the piece of toast I've been clutching in my hand. The engine revved; _bring it on, _I think as we pull out of the drive.

The platform was teeming with pesky first years frolicking about with their parents.

Oh please, even Lilly didn't cry on her first day.

Our stuff's already on the train, because seriously, even for a Weasley, it's a bitch of a time trying to find a carriage big enough on that sodding train. I say that because, most people just move and give us what we need on a platter.

Not on a silver one mind you, but a platter is what it normally is.

Now, us Weasley's are standing here in the gloom, waiting for our extended household family to appear through the gloom.

As if on cue, I spot the jet black hair of Uncle Harry, trawling along with Aunty Ginny and his three children. I say trawling because Lilly is trying to socialise with every living soul she passes and James is trying to hit off with every woman he passes.

They all chime "_hi_" as they see us, and Hugo delves straight into the subject of Mum and Dad's earlier friendly encounter, much to everyone's amusement.

Al, on the other hand, was bearing his famous lop sided grin at me, looking every inch like Uncle Harry (minus the glasses.)

Seriously, if Al was as outgoing as James, he would be the angelic version of Malfoy; girls swooning after him everywhere.

He's rather well built, if I'm eligible to say that about my cousin, as he, reminiscent of myself, is on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He has this jet black hair that never lies flat and his jade eyes are forever sparkling with enthrallment.

To what he's so jovial about, I have not a clue 3 quarters of the time, but right now, I know it's because he's spotted me.

And you know what, I feel exactly the same. I'm so wrapped up and elated, I can't help the smile I've been suppressing for two weeks cracking itself like and egg on my lips.

"Merlin, I've missed you rich boy!" I laugh into his neck, as I'm pulled into a hug so fierce it could compromise for Grandma Weasley.

"Missed you too, my little feisty moo." Al chuckles from over my shoulder. We'd always called each other these names since we were about 6 and we'd had what we thought was the biggest argument ever.

At the time, rich boy and feisty moo were the harshest names we could come out with.

"Ok, Al, I love you too, but seriously, my ribs..." I say jokingly, gasping for air. I love that kid, but boy is he strong.

"Oh, eh, sorry love." He laughs, and grants me another lopsided grin.

I beam back. But it soon fades.

Gawping at me from a train window is none other than Hogwarts largest STD factory, Scorpius Malfoy. For a split second, I don't think he realised his mouth was hanging wider than a fly trap.

But no sooner had I blinked, his seemingly perpetual gape was replaced with his two pale middle fingers stuck right up at me through the ageing glass.

So, in all modesty, I return the favour. As my Uncle Dave once said, every action causes a re-action.

He turns away,_ turd_, I think as I start to walk over to his window. I catch a glimpse of my on-off boyfriend, and Malfoy's biggest enemy, Harry Prince, from the corner of my eye. He was a member of Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and like Al, fairly well built. I'm pretty sure a handful of girls in Hogwarts would kill to be in my position.

He's just so, personality-less. I don't even know if that's a word, but if it is, the dictionary definition should be Harry Prince.

Oh Merlin, that's disgusting. That is seriously rank.

Ew, Ew, Ew. Brittany Gomshaw and Scorpius Malfoy playing tonsil quidditch?

Wait, is that a smirk I spy on Malfoy's lips? Oh, oh, well two can play that game, Mr.

"Oh, Harry, my love! Merlin, I've missed so much!" I swoon in my girlish voice. Damn, that was painful. But what was to come, well...

"Rose, I mi-

No-one will ever know what was about to come out of his mouth, because at that moment I flung myself so hard on to the oh so dashing Harry Prince, I could have knocked down the Great Wall of China.

I could feel him trying to deepen the kiss, oh shit, Mum and Dad are probably watching, along with the rest of the family. I pull away and whisper in his ear

"Later." Whilst laying a finger on his lips. I smirk as I look over to the window where the devil himself is standing.

And what lies before my very eyes is more amusing than James after a girl has refused to let him into her knickers.

Pure anger is seething so furiously out of Scorpius Malfoy's infatuating eyes, it's that stupid and hilarious I burst out laughing. So does my partner in crime, Mr. Prince. Wowza, maybe he does have _some_ personality.

"I see someone's jealous, my dear!" Harry chuckles deeply from beside me, wrapping a muscular arm around my waist. Please, Merlin, get your sodding arms off me. Do you not realise I did that only, and exclusively, did that to spite the most pathetic excuse for a wizard, named Malfoy?

Obviously not.

"I think more like sick to his brains, anyway, eh, see you round." I say, winking as I walk off. Boy that was horrible.

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	5. Chapter 5 Malfoy, Stop Lying

**Discalimer: I think it's fairly obvious Harry Potter is not possessed by myself.**

Chapter 5 – Malfoy stop lying

"And I haven't shagged a single girl apart from Sophia this summer! She's bloody amazing, I'm telling you! Besides mate, what about you; any fun this summer?" Greg Zabini's voice wanders through my mind like couples through a park.

Fucking hell, something has drastically changed and I haven't even laid a foot inside Hogwarts yet. Thank Merlin Sophia and Brittany have scampered off to find some of their plastic Barbie friends, or I would Avada myself right here, right now.

"I, eh, been a few places!" I sigh, giving him a fake smirk before re-settling my iron gaze on the window once more.

"Oh I bet a _few_!" Greg taunts, winking at me with his navy blue eye, his tanned skin contrasting against his ink black hair. Why do I have to be so pale and blonde?

But I guess I look rather dashing, as does Greg, because a few bimbos have tried to pine their way into this carriage and onto our laps already.

I glance at the watch strapped to my wrist. My eyes are fixated on the silver second hand ticking around, wondering how much longer I can sit here.

I calculate not very long.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" I groan.

"What, you forgot you promised a bird some action?" Greg pines, a smug grin infecting his masculine features.

"No worse." I huff, rising slowly from the itchy seat I'm residing in. I grab the emerald and black robes, swaying side to side from the movement from the train, from the hook and drape them over my broad shoulders. I delve into my trouser pocket and retrieve my prefect badge and pin it onto my shirt.

I leave my tie isolated in my pocket, because seriously, who really gives a shit?

"Rounds." I mumble as I roll the door open, nodding a _see you later_ to Greg as I start to stalk down the corridor.

I hate rounds, every year everyone's doing the same sodding thing; re-uniting themselves with all their friends and other halves. So last year I just found some Slytherin infected carriage full of busty blondes and made myself at home.

This year, I have absolutely no intentions of breaking 1 year old the tradition. So in all my grandeur, a couple of carriages down, what do I find?

"Hello ladies, may I sit down?" I drawl, leaning lazily against the door frame. The three blondes seize their girly giggling and their eyes all simultaneously glaze over like a happy puppy.

If their getting the idea I want to get into their knickers right here, right now, they are sadly mistaken.

But hey, we can play on that.

"Oh, Scorpius sit next to me, Olivia!"

"No no, I'm so much better than her, Scorpy, I'm Alexandra..."

Fuck, what is it with _Scorpy_?

"Or what about me, Louisa"

They all simultaneously fought, batting their eyelashes and pouting their oil-slick pink lips in my face.

I smirk. Merlin this is hilarious. I shove my arse down next to the Barbie who calls herself Alexandra. _She seems keen enough _I think as I hang a lazy arm round her neck.

I hear her breath catch as the other two burn loop holes in her head. L.O.L

"So what have you lovely ladies been up to then?" I question, cocking an eyebrow and staring at the two adjacent to me.

"Well ..." one starts up

Well schmell, I think as my own thoughts engulf my mind.

I've always found it funny how everyone in school knows my murder worthy name and I barely remember anyone's face. How 3 quarters of the school avoid me like Spattergroit and the remaining quarter follow me round like a God.

How, I, a Malfoy, despite my exceptional school grades managed to get elected prefect. How people are always trying to tell me what they think of me, always trying to pick useless fights which they know they will loose.

How right now, a prefect is trying to pick a fight with me.

"Malfoy, would you mind getting your arse off that seat and actually start doing what you got chosen to do?" comes a pissed off voice from the door.

I cock my head to see who the hell is ruining this oh so captivating paragraph in my life.

"Fuck off Weasley, I will do what I damn well please with my life." I sneer in her face, which I spy is slowly morphing to a delicate shade of pink.

_Well, we can turn that pink into crimson._

"Well I'm sorry, Malfoy, but would you mind doing what you damn well want _after _you've done your rounds?" Rose retaliates.

That's another funny thing.

I've never heard Rose Weasley talk to me, no wait, shriek at me, in anything else but an ardent and boorish tone. I remember the first time I ever _tried_ to speak to her. We were in first year and I was keen to trash the stupid prejudices my grandfather had drawn up for me.

These two were _supposed_ to be my first step.

"Oi, Weasley, Potter." I drawled in my usual manner. Nothing displaced, just the same tone I used with anyone I didn't know.

But Merlin, the reaction I got was way too far fetched;

"Fuck of, Malfoy, and don't you dare call me that, ever; especially in a tone like that. You're an arse hole that lives to wreck people's lives, so stay out of ours!" she yelled, nodding towards her coal haired cousin, who looked like he was about to piss himself.

_Jesus_, I remember thinking_, I've_ _said next to nothing and yet you're insulting me already._

Hhm, maybe it hadn't crossed her stupid, if not stupidly genius mind that at that point I didn't know either of their first names?

And so, they were my first and last step in _abolishing_ those prejudices. Now I just _ignore_ most of them.

"Yeah, hello? Malfoy, please get your pathetic blonde head out of the clouds and answer the goddamn question?" comes that famous shriek, impaling my thoughts. Shit, I didn't realise I was that spaced out.

"Well I'm sorry, but since when did you get elected to be my mother?" I snicker back. Ha, fight that little lady.

"Err, well let me think, was it the point where I got told I had to keep an eye on you, or do rounds with you? Or maybe it was the fact that if I caught you frolicking about, I reserve the right to dismiss you of your prefect duties? Not sure, ask Professor McGonagall yourself?" Rose slaps back in my face.

And indeed, it hit's me in the face like she has finally managed to slap me. I pray you can't see it on my face.

"Excuse me Weasley, but if you hadn't noticed, _Scorpy_ is having a completely fantastic time with me. So fuck off!" comes a high pitched girly voice from beside me. I had almost forgotten that she was still there. I was regretting ever coming into this carriage for once in my life. Scorpy was becoming infectious.

I can see the haughty brunette's face turning, indeed, that furious shade of crimson I was hoping for. Plus, for once, the dirty work's been done and dusted for me.

"Roger that, Alexandra." I agree charmingly, granting Weasley with my, hopefully, icy stare. She doesn't move an inch. Damn it woman.

" I'm awfully sorrowful for the pair of you, but unless Mister Malfoy would care to loose his position of prefect, lets say, _right_ now, I suggest he gets off his sorry arse and gets to work!" she cries back, so furiously you can almost hear the steam erupting out of her ears.

Well, fucktastic, but I almost certainly do not want to loose my position of detention dishing to some psychiatric if rather attractive Gryffindor. Not to mention what my family would say.

I rise for the second time form the awkwardly positioned and infuriatingly itchy seats, but not before stage whispering to Alexandra

"See you later." And winking before slinking out of the door and slamming it shut.

"See you later?" Rose questions as she angrily struts down the shadowed corridor. I follow her small figure; I've caught up with her in a couple of strides.

"Got a problem with my placement of words, Weasel, because if there's some grammatical error you'd like to point out, I really don't give two personally.

"No I don't, and for the love of God, do not call me Weasel, arsetard. No, I was merely assuming that you prefer to be cryptic with your words. I gather that "See you later" simply means shag you later?" she chuckles. I almost do a double take; I swear her voice was shaking.

"Oh, am I really that transparent, Weasel?" I swagger back. Her ruffled chocolate hair swings round and her immersing eyes are ablaze. I can still spy that crimson blush of hers slowly creeping back up her narked face.

_You know there's someone you would like to say that too Malfoy_, the maddening voice in my head proclaims.

Yes, I do know.

"Completely and utterly!" she spits back; now's my chance to skewer her for earlier. I move so that either of us have our backs to each side of the corridor. I can already feel the anger and awkwardness dripping off her; her head's tilted up as my masculine frame leans over her. From over her shoulder, I can see the world rushing by from the window in the empty carriage behind her.

"Then tell me, Rose, what exactly am I thinking right now?" I challenge, cocking an eyebrow and smirking my arse off. If she ever guesses I'm thinking I want her, I will get you to personally Crucio me into insanity.

I move my face forward, so I'm staring right into those big, mysterious brown eyes which are telling me exactly what I've known 6 years.

_Malfoy, I hate you._

I feel her breath catch and have to suppress a chuckle mixed with this weird feeling that is dangerously close to relief.

"Well, Malfoy, you're thinking of me. That's plain as day." Rose chuckles back, eyes twinkling with a silent conversation that's challenging me to fight back. Fight I will.

Wait, did she just say...

Fuck, you now get to Crucio me into insanity.

"What's also freakishly obvious is the fact that you want a piece of me Malfoy. So, here you go." She whispers, inching her face daringly closer to mine. I can smell her strawberry breath and floral perfume channelling it's way up my nose, messing with my mind and playing ruff and tumble with my senses.

The next few seconds happen in a blur.

Weasley raises her arm, bringing it sharply towards my face. I muter an oath so foul even Greg would tell me to wash my mouth out with soap.

But her warm palm never reaches its final destination of my porcelain cheek, as suddenly the pair of us are jerked so violently into the carriage behind Weasley, the train must have run into fucking a Dementor or something. Instead, her hand is now pressing against my chest.

"Uuughh, fuuuck." She groans from beneath me; Merlin that sounded bad. Her feminine frame squirming franticly from my weight and her head is thrust back, eyes closed and I can feel her chest breathing heavily from beneath my collar bone.

Oh shit, funny feeling, funny feeling.

_Malfoy calm yourself._

"Fuck Malfoy, would you please get off me?" she groans again, this time her eyes are open and her tone is pleading.

_Time to play this to my advantage._

"I'm actually quite enjoying this position Weasley, and just like you said, _I want a piece of you."_ I smirk, whispering in her ear and pinning down her arms so that she can't attempt to slap me again.

I can hear her breath catching again, and she throws back her head, closing her eyes and exposing her neck, which I notice is adorned with no more than three minute freckles.

Sodding hell, if she had a different name I would have been to fourth base and back with her already.

"Malfoy please!" she cries "you're crushing my fucking pelvis!"

"I'm sorry Rosie-

Thwack.

"Fucking shitty spawn of Salazar Slytherin Weasley!" I cry. I roll off her body and onto the hard wooden floor, clutching my crown jewels in the process. Of all the things she could have done, she had to kick me, there.

Gracefully, she rises off the floor, brushing herself off and biting her lip like nothing happened.

"I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't see you there!" she gasps, pretty voice riddled with amusement and accomplishment. "Anyway, I'm off to complete my duties and scour out the devilishly handsome Harry Prince! Adios, Scorpius!" She turns on her heel and, I guess, struts out of the carriage.

"Oh, and when you _see_ Alexandra later, remember to use protection! You've probably spawned at least several new types of STD in the last few years!" she calls defiantly.

"I hate you Weasley!" I shout after her, still rolling on the floor because fuck this hurts!

"I know you do, bastard!" comes a fading cry from somewhere down the corridor.

_No you don't_; comes the impeding voice in my head once more.

_Yes I do_ I fight back silently.

Jesus Malfoy, stop lying!

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	6. Chapter 6 Close encounter

**Disclaimer : Create Harry Potter I did not.**

Chapter 6 Close Encounters

"So, my little duckling, Al here tells me you've been having a bit of public fun with my dear friend Harry Prince?" my cousin Louis endears from beside me, flinging an arm casually around my neck, and I can smell his manly cologne wafting it's way up my nose.

Louis was actually the one who introduced me to the guy; when I thought I was madly in love and could never find anybody more perfect.

I like to refer to that day as the day Rose Weasley woke up and saw the world.

Louis is one of those guys who is friends with absolutely everybody, and looks every inch of perfection.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, great personality and _completely dashing_ as my dorm mates like to say.

I guess being part Veela helps.

"And by the looks of it, someone other than your Dad was angry!" Al choruses in from my other side, also swinging an arm around my neck. The same scent as Louis filtrates up my nose, and I recognize it as the cologne Granddad Weasley bought them all for Christmas.

They should name it eau de Weasley Boy.

"And who's that?" I question dumbly, playing along with their game. This happened every time my family detected I was going out with someone.

"What's going on, how long has it been going, be careful, do you want me to hex him?" yada yada; you know the drill.

"Malfoy." Chuckle a string of voices. The throng consists of James, Hugo, Lilly, Fred, Roxanne and Al.

"Ew!" Louis and I yell in unison, and the whole carriage erupts into chaotic laughter. The way it's always been, because us lot are a tight knit. One person gets dragged down; the dragger has us to answer too.

I feel sorry for Hugo and Lilly when we leave the school; or maybe not.

"But seriously, Malfoy? That's, ugh, vomit worthy!" I cry, knowing full well the expression that had been plastered all the way across his handsome face.

"Exactly, so next time sis, please, make your displays of affection a little more discreet." Hugo drones, eyes still submerged in his precious Quidditch through the Ages.

"Sure thing, bro." I giggle. Wait a sec. Oh shit, shitty shit shit!

I grab Louis arm and drink in the time ticking away inside the expensive face.

"If your hungry Rose, the trolley's coming in 10 minutes!" Al says, realising I was obviously tugging forcefully on his cousins arm.

"Oh ha ha Al, but some of us actually have responsibility, and right now, I'm responsible for the whereabouts of the dick head we were just discussing!" I lumber, dragging myself out from the clutches of my two cousins slash best friends and roll open the carriage door. I hear everyone shuffling about on the seats, making use of the extra room.

"Good luck, feisty moo!" comes Al's manly voice from inside.

"Sure, I'll need it Rich Boy!" I grumble back in response; time for some arse kicking.

I hope.

You know what; I really have no idea why prefects have to patrol the corridors on the train? I mean, it isn't the dark war, flipping heck no.

I thought I could handle it last year, but this year just got a _whole _lot worse.

Why I hear you cavorting?

Well, for the dire reason I have been put on Malfoy surveillance because the shit can't do his job properly.

I mean, c'mon. All he has to do is walk down corridors? He's pretty good at doing that normally.

But no, so now can you see why I forgot my prefect badge this morning?

Oh fucktastic, here we go.

"Malfoy, would you mind getting your arse off that seat and actually start doing what you got chosen to do?" I state, pissed off, leaning subtly against the door.

Where have I found the fuck head? You guessed it; right where he belongs, in a carriage full of busty blondes, one of which has the simple _delight_ of being tucked under his muscular arm.

"Fuck off Weasley, I will do what I damn well please with my life." He sneers characteristically in my face.

_Oh sodding hell, I can feel my face turning pink!_

"Well I'm sorry, Malfoy, but would you mind doing what you damn well want _after _you've done your rounds?" I retaliate.

Here we were again, not even in Hogwarts and fighting like two toddlers over an ice cream.

Bloody hell, what the heck is so captivating about the wall? Or is it the fact he's trying to make me so utterly distracted with his impeccable features that I will forget all the reasons why I'm standing here, shouting my arse off in his carriage doorway.

I don't think so, froggie.

"Yeah, hello? Malfoy, please get your pathetic blonde head out of the clouds and answer the goddamn question?" I shriek, knowing full well that will impale whatever he's daydreaming about. I'm guessing the next girl he's deciding to shag.

For a split second, he looks completely spaced out, like a rabbit in the headlights. Then, just like earlier, I blink and he's slapped on his trademark smirk and cocked eyebrow.

Damn you, Malfoy.

"Well I'm sorry, but since when did you get elected to be my mother?" he snickers back. It's like he's daring me to fight him.

Well suck on this, pretty boy!

"Err, well let me think, was it the point where I got told I had to keep an eye on you, or do rounds with you? Or maybe it was the fact that if I caught you frolicking about, I reserve the right to dismiss you of your prefect duties? Not sure, ask Professor McGonagall yourself?" I slap back in his face.

Priceless, again, another split second emotion.

Someone please remind me to carry a camera at all times, so I can capture tentative moments like this.

"Excuse me Weasley, but if you hadn't noticed, _Scorpy_ is having a completely fantastic time with me. So fuck off!" comes a high pitched girly voice.

Hey, wait a second. I thought he was with that Brittany bimbo? Blimey, I'd never even talked to the girl and she knows my name! I really need to get myself out of all these papers! Wait, no, Malfoy said my name.

What the hell am I going on about?

Focus Rose, focus. Oh shit I can't!

I can feel my stupid face flush over with the famous Weasley blush, and a smug grin is slowly melting its way on Scorpius Malfoy's masculine lips.

_Come on Rose, you can't loose this on_e!

"Roger that, Alexandra." He coos to his new lust object, thrusting me an icy stare, to which I don't react. No way can he get to me again.

" I'm awfully sorrowful for the pair of you, but unless Mister Malfoy would care to loose his position of prefect, lets say, _right_ now, I suggest he gets off his sorry arse and gets to work!" I cry back, the fury of the previous comments pummelling its way out of myself.

Merlin, this is hard work. But he's not going to stay put now.

Loosing his precious prefect badge would scar his overly inflated ego for too long, not to mention, I'd laugh as to what his family would do.

I hope disown him.

He rises up nonchalantly from the old seat, but not before stage whispering to his new found beau

"See you later." And winking before slinking out of the door and slamming it shut behind me.

"See you later?"I question as I make my way down the shadowed corridor. I can hear him following me, thank the heavens he can't see the mash up of emotions written all the way across my face.

"Got a problem with my placement of words, Weasel, because if there's some grammatical error you'd like to point out, I really don't give two personally." He drawls in the same way he has done for all these years.

That drawl that showed me just how much he doesn't care and that drawl that makes me definatley want to carve his eyes out with a spoon.

"No I don't, and for the love of God, do not call me Weasel, arsetard. No, I was merely assuming that you prefer to be cryptic with your words. I gather that "See you later" simply means shag you later?" I chuckle; fake and innocent. I hope he can't hear the shake in my voice.

_Blimey Rose_, I think to myself, _you're a Weasley. What would Dad think if he saw you like this? Come on, blubbing at a Malfoy?_

Good point voice in my head.

Like I said before, time to kick some sorry arse!

"Oh, am I really that transparent, Weasel?" he swaggers back, voice full of pride and self absorption.

I swing around, turning to face his cocked eyebrow and tall frame leaning casually against the wall. He's making me want to slap him and is also giving me jelly legs at the same time.

A man of many talents.

"Completely and utterly!" I spit back; now he's getting worked up.

Sodding hell, maybe _really_ worked up.

He moves so that either of us have our backs to each side of the corridor. I remember being in this position with this turd once before, and remember what came next; a week in the hospital wing for both of us.

"Then tell me, Rose, what exactly am I thinking right now?" he challenge, cocking his eyebrow again and smirking so much, aliens on Mars could see him.

He moves his face forward, and I'm staring into those challenging, entrancing and devious grey eyes; speckled with blue. They're telling me everything I've known for the last 6 years of my life.

_Weasley, I hate you._

I feel my breath, involuntarily catch, and nearly piss myself when I detect a suppressed snicker escape his lips.

Let's see what he makes of my next move.

"Well, Malfoy, you're thinking of me. That's plain as day." I chuckles back, eyes painted with a silent conversation that's challenging him to fight back.

His own eyes are delicate watercolours of pure amazement. To what he's so amazed about, I have no clue, but it's pretty damn funny.

"What's also freakishly obvious is the fact that you want a piece of me Malfoy. So, here you go." I whisper, inching my face daringly closer to his. I can smell his spicy cologne intoxicate my nostrils, clouding up my vision for a few seconds with something that resembles love, mystery and pure danger.

Then I snap back round

The next few seconds happen in a blur.

I raise my arm and bring it sharply down towards Malfoy's stuck up, aristocratic and hideously perfect face. I hear him muter an oath so foul that my own father would hex him into tomorrow and back.

But my angry palm never reaches his cheek, as suddenly the pair of us are jerked so violently into the carriage behind me, I could swear the train just came off the tracks. But no, my fierce hand is now pressing forcefully on his chest.

"Uuughh, fuuuck." I groan from beneath the heavy man whore that is Malfoy; Merlin I bet that sounded bad. Jeez _this guy is heavy_ comes the voice inside my head as I try to squirm from under his perpetual squashing of my body.

No shit, ducky.

I bet this looks just _splendid_ from a certain angle. Thank Merlin this carriage is empty.

"Fuck Malfoy, would you please get off me?" I groan again, my eyes open, pleading subtly with his weighty stature. I can feel my chest strained from underneath his collarbone, and realise that this argument was rapidly going to the dogs.

"I'm actually quite enjoying this position Weasley, and just like you said, _I want a piece of you."_ He smirks, whispering in my ear and pinning down my arms as I try to pummel his face with my hand once more. Or draw my wand; one of the two.

Clever guy.

I hear my breath catching again.

"Malfoy please!" I cry for the final time. If he didn't budge, he was going to get what was coming, "you're crushing my fucking pelvis!"

"I'm sorry Rosie-

Thwack.

"Fucking shitty spawn of Salazar Slytherin Weasley!" he cries. He rolls off me and onto the hard wooden floor, clutching his prized package. I chuckle girlishly, lapping it up spitting it in his face. Mission accomplished.

I rise slowly from the floor and bite my lip.

"I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't see you there!" I gasp my voice a mash up of amusement and accomplishment. Now the icing in the cake, "Anyway, I'm off to complete my duties and scour out the devilishly handsome Harry Prince! Adios, Scorpius!" I turn on my heel and strut out of the carriage.

Oh and lookie what we have here, lying all alone on the floor; a Slytherin tie.

Hhm, whatever to do because I have _absolutely no_ idea who that belongs to!

I pick it up and ball it in my fist. Rose 2 Scorpius 0

"Oh, and when you _see_ Alexandra later, remember to use protection! You've probably spawned at least several new types of STD in the last few years!" I call, for good measure.

"I hate you Weasley!" he shouts after me, probably still rolling on the floor like a two year old.

"I know you do, bastard!" I cry back from down the corridor.

That was definitely a close encounter! Dad would be proud.

**Je t'aime if you press the button!**

**Everything I own**

**MorgeeLove **

**x**


	7. Chapter 7 The Truth is a Lie

**Disclaimer: My mind is not great enough to have created the phenominon (sp?) that is Mr Harry Potter and co.**

Chapter 7 – The truth is a lie

The first day of Hogwarts had flown by with gusto comparable to the speed of a snitch in full flight; plenty of girls, partying and drinking. The Slytherin common room had delved into its routine thumping partying demeanour by no earlier than 6 o'clock, and some rich bitches parents had bumped up the Firewhiskey stocks; of which we have more or less drained.

Practically perfect in every way. I didn't even see Brittany half the night, too drunk I expect.

Yeah, apart from there was one thing I wish had happened and it never would, despite the fact I hate that little brunette shit nearly much as Professor Trelawney and her boudoir of utter peace.

More like stink hole of utter piss.

_Shut up Malfoy._

"Mister Malfoy, where is your tie?" comes the aged voice of Professor Slughorn from over my bubbling cauldron of Wit Sharpening potion. First lesson of the day and I'm getting told off; by my head of house.

I can spy Greg Zabini next to me, lazily ogling at some blonde Barbie, oh no, wait, Sophia in the front row, who's leaning a little too far over her cauldron, if you get the gist.

I swear on the name of Thestrals, this guy would have well and truly failed this class, accompanied by a pleasant fat T, if it weren't for me. After all, I am _the_ Scorpius Malfoy, am I not?

"I have no idea, sir." I grumble miserably from over the fumes, carefully stirring it just so, as to get the colour just right.

I have not a clue where that bloody tie of mine went. Seriously, it was in my pocket when I got on the train, and when I got off, nada, nout, nothing.

For once in my life, I had probably just told the pure and utter tactile truth, which I must say is not a nice feeling. It's not like I lie my way through life, no. More like I embellish the truth. There's no harm in that, because for Merlin's sake, I'm a Slytherin. We live for lies and dirty tricks.

"Well then, 50 points from Slytherin, and detention at 8.30 sharp, no excuses!" he cries in anger. Merlin, I swear he's on permanent manstration that gets more intense as he piles on the years. You have to admit, that is pretty out. I dread to think what Miss-in-charge-of-you has to say about this. _You're supposed to be responsible, bla bla bla_, I expect.

"No excuses." I mimic under my breath, face morphed into a sight, I expect, looks like I just swallowed a lemon.

Two suppressed snickers palm their way from the back of the dungeon to my ears. I bottle my, sorry _our_, potion into a vile, and the snickers gain in volume.

I snap round, eyes glazed over with a shut-your-gob-or-be-hexed-off-this-earth stare, because no-one makes fun of a Malfoy, especially...

"Miss Weasley, Mr Potter, what is so amusing that you feel the need to make such a loud noises?" the slug drabbles again. This time, he's lumbering towards the holier-than-thou pair, situated in the middle of the second to last row. Their cauldron's lying cool, and a vial of the required substance is sitting proudly on the centre of the little wooden work desk. Damn, beat me to it again.

"I, eh, Rose was tickling my, eh, my leg." Potter grins sheepishly, trying, I can tell, to win over the Professor. Weasley starts laughing harder now, harsh crimson blush infecting her once cool face.

"Miss Weasley, is this true?" Slughorn questions, hands placed on the edge of their desk, trying unsuccessfully to blow them off course. It isn't working. She bites her lip, trying to hold back her giggle, which still manages to escape from her coral lips.

I myself have to bite my tongue to suppress a groan from tumbling out of my mouth, as she sub-consciously licks her lips before opening her mouth in an exultant grin.

"Well yes, but, eh, the reason for us making such loud noises is, erm..." she smoothly states, drawing something from her lap, emerald green, silky, and unmistakably...

"This. I believe this tie belongs to a certain Mr Malfoy, whom carelessly left it lying about on the Hogwarts Express, before I managed to salvage it from being carted off back to London." Weasley chimes triumphantly, holding my tie aloft, shamelessly shaking her head in my direction, eyes mocking mine in pleasant pride.

"Sir, I believe that stealing is a crime, is it not? Besided, how did you know it was mine?" I pine in defence. How the hell did she get that? Oh wait. Shit.

"Well I believe that saving, not stealing, isn't exactly classified as a bonafide crime, Malfoy, is it not? And the name tag with _your name_ on it kind of gave away who it belongs to." she send back me, eyebrows aloft, her chair now kicked back as she starts to march her way towards my desk. The bitch is probably going to try and strangle me with my own tie or something.

I rise; my masculine stature overrides hers by quite a few inches. It makes me want to laugh; but a Malfoy doesn't laugh in the presence of a Weasley, or a Potter for that matter. We smirk instead.

I mirror her angry posture, mimicking her crossed arms and stubborn glare, residing upwards to my face. Her eyes are twinkling with spite and I can hear her heavy breathing; it's all way too much like our little encounter on the train. Buggering bastards, she's going to pay.

"Just give me my tie, you psychotic bint." I whisper dangerously in her ear. Obviously it wasn't that quiet, as a whole chorus of ooohs and chuckles rise and fall like dominoes from around the darkened room.

"Mr Malfoy!" comes the almost forlorn pry of Professor Slughorn's shout from somewhere across the room.

"Malfoy, shut your fucking gob!" comes another familiar yell, this one owned by Mr Albus Potter; dickhead No.2.

I don't take it in. This infuriating _thing_ in front of me needs to learn her lesson.

"What tie? Oh, you mean _this_?" Weasley exclaims, dangling the tie in the air, dangerously close to the naked flame of a nearby fire. Seriously, precariously dangerously treacherously close to that fire.

She hasn't.

"Oh my Merlin Malfoy, I am so sorry!" she cries, clapping her hand dramatically over her open mouth, which I notice is inscribed with the hopeful words; _Rosie loves me!_ I wish.

The amber flames engulf the emerald cloth, drinking it up in ceremonial glee, sparks protruding in every direction as the mass of the fire enlarges noticeably. The bitch beat me, again. How dare she? And why in fucking Merlin's name did she _not_ get sorted into Slytherin?

"Miss Weasley, for that you will most certainly be joining Mr Malfoy tonight! 50 points from Gryffindor and I will see you at 8.30 as well, accompanied by a new tie for Mr Malfoy here!" Slughorn barks, snapping back round to the front of the dungeon, just as the bell sounds from outside the hefty black door; saved by the bell.

I replenish my smirk.

The looks of pure impair, trepidation and lament that are currently flashing their ways across Rose Weasley's face are none other than priceless. It's time like these I wish I had a camera.

Maybe it's more like I won. The last time she ever got detention was because of me; looks like she just got slated true and bad once more.

_Go Scorpius, go Scorpius!_

"But, wha-..." she stutters.

It dawns on both of us like an egg just got splattered in our faces.

"Sir, quidditch tryouts are tonight!" we both cry, the echo is phantom like as it dawns on me that most of the class has already left. I chance a quick glance at her pretty face, which is currently shrouded over like a dementor's bum or something. Not so gorgeous now.

The glare I'm receiving is odious enough to make my own grandfather go curl up under some slimy rock. Alas, I am no Lucius Malfoy, with no rock to crawl under. I fight my battles, especially with this crazy chick.

"Yeah, and Scorpius and I have prefect rounds to do tonight sir." Weasley chimes apologetically; even doxies could tell she's trying to play suck up.

Now I know why she's a Gryffindor.

Her gaze is pleading with the slug, as his fat chins wobble about characteristically as he plods heavily over to the door, the last student scarpering out before they get pulverised by old shite-his-pants here.

"What she said." I add in. No way on this Earth does the Malfoy part of me want to be stuck in detention with a kleptomaniac mahogany headed Weasley. Especially one I have the hots for.

But the Scorpius bit does; badly so. Then it dawns on me; she called me Scorpius.

"Well, I shall have a word with the headmistress and get someone else to do your rounds. I'm sure she'll be wholly delighted, especially about you Mr Malfoy. As for the quidditch, I am eternally sorrowful." He drawls, his body signalling for us to make an expeditious exit, probably before he dunks both of our heads in shrinking potion or something.

"I'm going, I'm going." I hear Weasley mutter rationally under her breath, as both of our bodies collide in the narrow doorway, pummelling both of us outwards with hefty force. I can spy Mr Dickheads No.1 and 2 standing at the end of the corridor, crimson and navy robes shrouded over by the thick darkness inhabiting the passageway. They both look up from their, I expect, captivating conversation, as we both tumble unceremoniously from the dungeon.

"Stupid bitch." I murmur, just loud enough for her and no-one else to hear. She shoots me a I-have-shit-on-you-that's-Azkaban-worthy glare before storming towards her egotistic cousin and fat headed boyfriend.

"Oh and you two!" Slughorn's aged boom reaches up into my ears once more.

I snap round on my heel, satchel flying by my side, swinging round and hitting my leg with an almighty thump. I almost have to suppress a groan, because fucking hell how much does _advanced potions making_ weigh?

"Please, _do not_ bring your wands!"

"What!" we both cry simultaneously. No way. No bloody way. This slug is evil; way to evil.

"No whats, not buts, no quidditch, no nothing. DE-TEN-TION. End of story!" the slug states before curtly slamming the heavy door in our faces.

Charming.

"This." Weasley starts to seethe, teeth clenched in brutal abhorrence, eyes ablaze, mahogany curls leaning forward from her head, leering at me from the flickering torchlight. Right now, she's like Medusa in human form.

"Is all your fault, Malfoy!" she hisses, before storming off, almost ripping both Potter and Prince's arms off as she yanked them forcefully round the corner by the hands, like a bossy mother on an early menopause or something.

Both of them shoot me death glares as they half sprint to keep up with their new found hot-headed mother.

This comment strikes me as rather theoretical, seeing as it was the she-wolf herself that burn my tie to nothing-ness. What a shitty hypocrite.

I snap out of it as my senses are aroused from their buried state. I turn the corner and what comes into view than none other than the Platinum Pair and their Ravenclaw cling-on, in obvious deep conversation, Weasley and Prince's hands entwined together still.

They look so perfect together; just why I wish so much that it was me holding her hand, when I'm the one she probably has dreams about Avada-ing.

They disappear around another corner, and the obvious answer hits me like a thousand tonnes of Leprechaun Gold.

She's off limits, always has been and always will be. As much as I despise to admit it, Rose Weasley is probably the one girl I couldn't just pick up at a party and shag to our wits end. There's an invisible barrier wrapped so tightly around both of us, we daren't try to escape it.

Kind of like "Keep off the grass"

Weasley is a hard case to crack, definitely one no Sherlock Holmes couldsolve, and yes I read muggle literature.

I despise that I adore her, however I adore that I despise her.

What is the truth and what is the lie, because everything's got so shrouded up in my embellishments, I should own a haberdashery.

You know why, because with me, the truth _is_ a lie.

**Scorpius will love you if you tell me what you think**

**So will I **

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	8. Chapter 8 Revenge is a Bitch

Chapter 8 – Revenge is painful

After my little ordeal on the train, I did in fact find my not-made-official boyfriend, but for all the wrong reasons. He was looking for me, and I now thank whoever is above me for him finding me in an un-deserted corridor. Hint hint why he was looking for me.

The thing is with Harry, I like him, and I really do. His personality has even started to seep through ever so slightly in these two days we've been re-united with each other. It's not that he's ugly; Harry Prince is in a league of his own. Sandy hair that falls into his eyes and a hand that fits annoyingly well into mine; that's definitely not ugly. There's just something. Something in both of us just doesn't respond, doesn't click.

So now he's a pawn in my war against Malfoy to be the better person, to get my own back for the 5 years of trickery and snide remarks he's made me endure. Step 1; show him I don't give a fuck.

Step 2, be one step ahead of him at all times, like now.

"Mister Malfoy, where is your tie?" questions the ageing Professor Slughorn, who is making his way towards Malfoy and Zabini's desk like a snail on speed; so, not very fast. I notice his cauldron still steaming and mentally high five myself, as I put out the fire on our desk. The black vile of Wit-Sharpening is sitting proud and perfect on the centre of our desk.

Score.

"I have no idea, sir." Malfoy grumbles miserably, still concentrating on his potion like life or death. Boy how I wish I was sitting in front of him, the look on his face must be second-to-none. Al nudges me gently from the left, head nodding towards my lap, hand firmly gripping mine, writing something I can't make out.

My face cracks into an exultant grin, as I clench the scrunched up tie firmly in my fist, not wanting to give the game away until the moment arouses. Al lets go of my hand, and I reel it in, to read _Rosie loves me _etched messily on my free hand. I smack Al over the head with the tie, contemplating whether or not I should actually give it back.

This sole piece of material clutched possessively in my hand is one of the ways I can blackmail the malevolent git sitting two rows in front of me, blonde head one of the few sources of light on this murky, dank, odious room. It stinks, because of the fact it makes it seem like he's the fucking angel in a storm.

Yeah, a boozed up one, I might add.

"Well then, 50 points from Slytherin, and detention at 8.30 sharp, no excuses!" comes the professor's mad cry from outside my bubble of thought, shattering my daydream of anarchy angel to pieces. Al and I guffaw simultaneously, boy this is hilarious. But like I said, never, ever, mess with us lot.

You'll get your arse kicked well and truly.

I hear a high pitched whisper come from _his_ desk, and realise he's probably now royally pissed off, thanks to myself and my expertise in tie snatching.

_Go Rose!_

Al goes to poke me in the shoulder, but misses and pokes me straight in the ribs, right in the place where I'm bloody ticklish as hell. I grab his knee, causing him to yelp, and we both collapse into a wicked fit of snickers.

I'm trying to cover them up, but I guess it aint working. Malfoy bottles up his potion and snaps round our way, sending me daggers, which are not unnerving me in the slightest. Nice try, shite head, but not quite.

Wait, oh crap, crappy shitty crap!

"Miss Weasley, Mr Potter, what is so amusing that you feel the need to make such loud noises? Are you excited about something" Slughorn babbles once more. As he starts to lumber grumpily towards our desk, fat chins wobbling about in every direction, I catch, out of the corner of my eye, Anarchy Angel eyeing our potion covetously.

Phft, what a man whore.

"I, eh, Rose was tickling my, eh, my leg." Al chuckles, his famous Potter grin tapped from one side of his mouth to the other. Slughorn leans forward onto our desk, half in superior-ness, half in his exhaustion of having to trundle two rows to reach our desk.

Merlin, this situation is getting way too much for me, and I just burst my head laughing. I swear I nearly pissed myself. I can feel Al next to me chuckling his arse off, and about 30 pairs of eyes staring poignantly, as I slowly morph from normal Rose, to a very, very red Rose.

"Miss Weasley, is this true?" the Slug Bug questions, eyeing the both of us, his hands still gripping the edge of our desk forcefully. Bloody hell, if he squeezes it any tighter, he'll probably snap it in two. I try biting my lip to stop myself from going into a full force giggle fest, but it kind of fails, as another giggle escape it's prison once more.

Merlin, I'm awful at this; Time to get my own back.

"Well yes, but, eh, the reason for us making such loud noises is, erm..." I state, free of giggles, and I hope, nonchalantly confident. I unclench my fist and hold up Malfoy's tie, so triumphant I could have won the quidditch world cup. Euphoria is a splendid feeling.

"This. I believe this tie belongs to a certain Mr Malfoy, whom carelessly left it lying about on the Hogwarts Express, before I managed to salvage it from being carted off back to London." I chime mockingly, shaking the tie towards Malfoy's seething face, his eyes boring into my face. Royally pissed off; check.

"Sir, I believe that stealing is a crime, is it not? Besides, how do you know it's mine" He pines in pathetic defence. Did you not hear me dumb arse, I _found it_ on the floor? Well, you and I know how the story goes, but ickle Scorpius never needs to know, does he?

"Well I believe that saving, not stealing, isn't exactly classified as a bonafide crime, Malfoy, is it not? And, er, the name tag with _your name_ on it kind of gave away whos it is," I laugh, raising my eyebrows and wrapping the emerald tie tightly around my palm. I kick back my chair and start to stalk my way to the pricks desk.

This is going to be fun. I can feel every soul that lurks in this dungeon peering curious as a cat at me. Alas, I have only eyes for one dude in this dungeon, and he's standing right in front of me.

I never noticed just how tall he is, I guess he grew even more over the holidays. I swear, the amount of time I have to look up into that shitty gorgeous face of his, I should have whiplash. Malfoy even has the cheek to mimic my posture.

Very suave, sir. Unfortunately, you have to pay the price.

"Just give me my tie, you psychotic bint." He stage whispers menacingly in my ear. So now I'm a psychotic bint, on top of a Weasel? A sing song of, "Oh My Gods", "Nice one" and "Bastard" wind their way around the room.

"Mr Malfoy!" booms Professor Slughorn, half menacingly half jokingly. He's happy, one of his own Slytherins is trying (and failing) to beat up a Gryffindor; not to mention a Weasley.

"Malfoy, shut your fucking gob!" comes the yell of Al. He should be my brother, not Lily's. All he does is shout and be all holier-than-thou at people who slate me off. But for once, I don't tear my eyes off of my victim.

You know why, because this infatuating, pure-blooded _thing_ in front of me needs to learn his lesson.

"What tie? Oh, you mean _this_?" I pry innocently, draping the unravelled tie nice and close to Vincent Goyle's fire. Closer, just a little bit closer.

Oh knickers, what a shame!

"Oh my Merlin Malfoy, I am so sorry!" I cry sympathetically, clapping my etched hand dramatically over my mouth. Euphoria really is great, and I can't help but casting a smirk so big across my face, Malfoy's dad would be proud.

The amber flames engulf the emerald cloth, drinking it up in ceremonial glee, sparks protruding in every direction as the mass of the fire enlarges noticeably. Nice way to describe the fire eating up Malfoy's tie I think.

However, words definitely cannot describe the look of absolute revulsion and dismay running their way across Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy's face. Where is my camera, please!

"Miss Weasley, for that you will most certainly be joining Mr Malfoy tonight! 50 points from Gryffindor and I will see you at 8.30 as well, accompanied by a new tie for Mr Malfoy here!" Slughorn yaps like a dog, finally drawing himself away from Al and I's desk, hobbling back towards the front of the classroom.

I hear the bell ring outside of the heavy oak door, and force my open mouth closed I steal a glance at , who is taking his turn to smirk his arse off.

_Shitty son of a Deatheater._

Last time I got detention was because of this conspicuous, ego inflated twirp. Now he's gone and done it again. And where the bloody hell am _I_ supposed to get a Slytherin tie?

"But, wha-..." I stutter. It dawns on me, this evil slug cannot be serious.

"Sir, quidditch tryouts are tonight!" we both cry, and the echo's rebound forcefully on us. I look around; to my surprise nearly three quarters of the class have gone. I guess they don't want to join me and my companion to a jovial detention with PMMS suffering Slughorn.

I glare straight up into those grey-flecked-blue eyes, desperately trying to get the message that it is I who is now royally pissed. Hopefully my next move will leave him with something to think about; or crawl under a rock and die.

"Yeah, and Scorpius and I have prefect rounds to do tonight sir."I plead apologetically. Using Malfoy's first name makes me sick to beyond my stomach, but there you go. I just hope to Merlin Slughorn doesn't go and tell the headmistress what's just happened. Then _we will_ be in trouble. After all, I'm the one on Malfoy surveillance.

Slughorn trundles to the door, breathing heavily as his numerous chins dance about on his face.

"What she said." Malfoy adds in, and I can see him eyeing me suspiciously. I have to fight the urge to slap him in the face. He is such a bloody bag of boobs!

"Well, I shall have a word with the headmistress and get someone else to do your rounds. I'm sure she'll be wholly delighted, especially about you Mr Malfoy. As for the quidditch, I am eternally sorrowful." Horn-o-slug drawls; voice full of contempt. His brows are raised and he's signalling with his head to make a sharp exit; or else.

Or else what; gag me with a teaspoon?

"I'm going, I'm going." I murmur tentatively, hoping no-one hears or I am in a bigger pile of shit than I am already. I make my exit as fleeting as physically possible, but it seems Dickhead no.1 has the same idea. His ostentatious frame practically crushes me as both our bodies collide profoundly in the doorway. The smell if his cologne worms it's way up my nose again, why the fuck does he have to smell so good?

Does he like, bathe in the stuff or what?

I spy Al, and Wahoo, Harry Prince submerged in thick conversation at the end of the bleak corridor, both looking serious. Please, please don't let Al be giving him the cousin-slash-over-protective-best-friend-to-boyfriend talk. No, no, no.

"Stupid bitch." Malfoy curses under his breath, and I have to stop my self from drawing my wand and blasting his eyes out now; Or with a spoon. I shoot him daggers before storming off towards my two Romeo's. Both of them raise their eyebrows as I approach them.

"Oh and you two!" Slughorn's aged boom reaches up into my ears once more. I snap around, really not caring for what he's about to pound into me, my curls flying all over the place.

Malfoy has once again succeeded in making me the angriest person on the planet. Fuck his sorry arse.

"Please, _do not_ bring your wands!"

"What!" we both cry simultaneously. No bloody way! Just what you need in a time like this.

"No whats, not buts, no quidditch, no nothing. DE-TEN-TION. End of story!" Slughorn grovels, before slamming the door in our faces.

Man period!

"This." I scathe, leering my small body towards Malfoy's aggravatingly tall one.

"Is all your fault!" I hiss, before half sprinting towards Al and Harry, eyes leaking with Hysteria. I grab them both forcefully by the hands, probably looking like my mum on a bad day, at that time of the month. That comment was stupidly hypocritical, but I don't care. Revenge is a bloody bitch.

"So, what did he do?" Harry questions sympathetically, squeezing my hand to crushing point, whilst Al sensibly let's go. I just want to scream at him to get off my fucking hand.

"Be himself, that's what!" I cry. _Breathe Rose, breathe._ For now, I've calmed down.

Harry gives Al a knowing look, and delves into the subject called Tuesday morning potions.

But for me, a question springs up in my mind.

Why does Malfoy get to me like that, why is he the only person that unnerves me like a dementor? Everything with him is a challenge, a fight, something that has to be won. Like, if someone asked us to pass the butter, we'd both probably snatch it, spill it everywhere, and blame it on the other.

Why do I dream about him?

Now it hits me, like a Hippogriff sat on me.

You're off limits Malfoy. Always have been, always will be; untouchable to everyone, even the girls that simultaneously climb into your bed every night.


	9. Chapter 9 Protracted State

**Disclaimer: Until pigs fly, Harry Potter is not mine.**

Protracted State

My unruly hair gently caresses my cheek, as I survey the abundance of beauty Hogwarts has to offer, through the divination tower window. No matter how much I loathe Professor Trelawney and her odorous incense sticks, accompanied by the infatuating herbal tea, I always have found the view from up here pleasantly calming. A suppressed whistle of wind passes by, before a creamy voice disturbs my horizon surveying.

"So, my dears, we shall explore the innermost feelings of our chosen companion. Breathe and express, my dears foresee the unseen. Delve unto that which remains hidden." Professor Trelawney drones half hypnotically, entrancing most of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor girls, who are gazing at her in awe.

They all breathe in at the same word, and I could swear they're under the Imperius curse. The lot of them would probably run around Hogwarts naked if Trelawney clicked her fingers and expelled the correct incantation.

_Please, cut the crap. _I sigh longingly, my eyes refracting casually back to the window. This is all we normally do in this pointless lesson, which is probably why I more or less failed my exam. Scouring the depths of an empty crystal ball for my future is not, in the slightest, going to grant me the job of my dreams. Besides, I have not the tolerance or mental desire to express "what remains hidden" and "explore the innermost feelings of our chosen companion."

I give up my exploration of the school's ground when my gaze comes to rest upon an auburn haired boy and coal haired girl entwined passionately with each other, the boy from a distance frightfully resembling James. If it is, that's just gross.

My eyes twist back to the embellished room, my body slowly sinking down into the easy chair I'm almost asleep in. I look for Al through the perfumed haze, and find him in the same demeanour of utter _exhilaration_ as me. His head's lolling on his palm, veered towards his partner Lena Hunt, a dorm mate of mine, who is staring affectionately at the back of his head.

I have to suppress a chuckle as they simultaneously yawn together, both of their heads nearly colliding in casual slumber as they loll from pure boredom. I feel my partner blow out an indolent sigh, stirring up the humorous theory that perhaps Professor Trelawney drugs her candles or something.

"Having fun my love?" Harry questions, sparkling turquoise eyes locking lovingly with mine. I half-heartedly return the look, before Sir. Prince decides to get _too_ cosy.

"Mhmm." I mumble tenuously, resting my head on his shoulder before I fall into a deep sleep and don't wake up for 100 years. The gentle murmur of drowsy 6th years tickles my ears, and Harry's suave voice pines out into reality.

"So, ladies first?" he questions. Merlin, for a Ravenclaw, he really has a hollow head sometimes. I decide to be subtly wily and tease myself out of this dangerous situation. As much as I'm becoming more and more lenient to the guy, it is a frozen fact that I do not want to discuss the inner workings of my mind with someone who I have done nothing but snog.

"How about, men just before?" I question auspiciously, my mouth curves into a soft smirk, eyes trying to embody the stubbornness in my comment.

"Very well then; how about a question for me?" Harry asks, singling out a loose curl from my head, running it between his fingers. I can tell we're both in for the long haul, and I thank Merlin this is only a single lesson.

"Right, well, err, biggest fear." I state with an intake of breath, flicking my eyes to the back of Louis' head, whom is in a deep tempest of, I expect, heavy conversation with Ravenclaw chaser come lust object Holly Knott and Kurt Jacobs, a fellow Gryffindor. I take in mumbles of "The dark" and "spiders", the conversation whittles away into a wealth of empty questions, complemented with side orders of meaningless answers.

I loosely lead him on with stuff like "You wouldn't understand", Harry, as a Ravenclaw fights back with "You have to be in Ravenclaw", so all in all, I'm having quite a non-tempestuous time. I even briefly delve into the subject of being Ron and Hermione Weasley's daughter.

I get a knowing look, and a hand clutching mine, not so passionately. Still, I can't believe I told him that.

But then, he has to hit me with the witty question that even the famous Reeta Skeeter would hate to be on the receiving end of.

"Rose, do you love me?"

All of a sudden, I can hear my heart pumping torrentially fast in my chest, and my breath catches too loudly for my liking. I snap my head round to the window as anguish floods Harry's face like nothing I've ever seen. Right now, it pains me so much I want to vomit. Pretentious words of "_just say yes_" hammer away from inside of my head, when it rips at my heart, knowing that all this time I have _just been leading him on. _

That, all this time, someone else entirely less appetising but maliciously delectable has been clouding up my vision. A person I really shouldn't care about, but have a perilous desire to spite and kiss every second of the bloody day. The person my Dad warned me about not getting too friendly with. I can feel hot tears threatening against my closed lids, and I draw them open, not wanting to cause more of a fuss than I already have.

I could just say it, but I can't. It's funny how those four words seize up my mind, because I know I can't just toss them around like no-one's business, _they mean something._

"I..." I start, before trailing of wistfully as the bell rings from below us, saving me again from utter mortification once more.

"Hey Rose!" Louis calls from somewhere in the distance, my senses slap back out from the haze of raw emotion I'm swimming neck deep in.

"Need to go." I finish up, clawing my books into my satchel, swinging it forcefully on my shoulder; not before stealing an exasperated glance at Harry, who's just sitting there, looking like he just downed a whole bottle of Firewhiskey. The difference with me is that I _feel_ like I've just downed a whole bottle of the stuff, or perhaps two. I rapidly scurry towards my cousin, who is making his exit down the silver step ladder, and I follow in hasty pursuit, before this gets any worse.

"So, kiddo, tell Uncle Albie and LooLoo what's wrong then." My ink haired cousin coos from beside me, nudging me slightly, as my body veers rightwards into Louis' shoulder. I pull my knees closer to my chest because _damn it's cold out here._

"Yeah, c'mon Rose, we even bought our lunch out here to talk to you!" Louis proclaims half-heartedly, wavering his and Al's sandwiches in my face, which are stuffed with ham and pickles. I wrinkle my nose up in disgust at the sheer sight as one passes in front of my face. I've never liked the combination ever since Granddad Weasley gave me one of his when I was five, and I neatly chugged it all over the carpet; happier days.

"So, what did he say little moo moo?" Al mocks, ravaging on his sandwich as he does so.

_Boys_

"Nothing actually, it's more like what_ I_ didn't say." I whisper, and I can feel my voice starting to shake as my eyes once more well up with trying tears, of which I know I can't cry. We're sitting in my usual spot, a jutting rock by the Black Lake, where you can see nearly the whole of Hogwarts, but nearly the whole of Hogwarts can't see you.

In my state in this current time, I am on cloud nine that no-one can see me. No doubt I'd be on the cover of Witch Weekly, headlining "Wizarding World Princess; not as easy as it looks."

Just imagine it; though I expect I'm already front page news after earlier.

"Ahh, okay Rose, get you now." Louis thinks aloud, like he does in these situations. He tends to get the answer first, being a Ravenclaw and all. They both turn to look at me sympathetically, as I spy Louis mouthing:

_He said do you love me_

To Al.

"Hey, moo, it'll be alright. Judging by the conversation me and him had earlier, I' m guessing it'll just blow over. Oh and by the way, James says he'll move tryouts to tomorrow." Al teases.

It'll just blow over. Now I get what Mum meant when she said One Chance. Harry Prince was my once chance to have a normal, healthy relationship. Have someone in my life that balances everything out; and I've just gone and royally fucked it up.

_Congratulations Rose._

"Quidditch good; but please tell me you didn't give him _the talk_." I groan, burying my head into my knees in sheer humiliation. Merlin, could this day get any worse? First I get detention and make James move Quidditch tryouts. Then I practically break my boyfriend's heart without saying anything, only to be told it'll all blow over.

"He sure did." Says Louis, his voice muffled from my hair. I can feel bitter rain dropping minute water bombs on my bowed head, and I look up to have one spray itself on my nose. I rise heavily, my body wedged between my two cousins protective arms as we slowly trudge our way back to the castle.

Then, I let it slip out. The rain veils it, as that single tear slides desolately down my cheek. That single tear that represents everything I hide behind, everything I lock away from everyone. As it falls in its protracted state down into the damp ground, we reach the door and I am utterly fearful of what my future has to offer.

I** give you a little fanfiction**

**You give me a little review?**

**Merci as always**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	10. Chapter 10 Someone Else Completley

**Disclaimer: If Harry Potter ain't yours say I I**

Someone Else Completely

"Hey Prince, we need to talk." Comes the grand voice of Albus Potter through the tenacious gloom inhabiting the dungeon walls. He strides towards me, but not overconfidently; more like he knows his boundaries, but doesn't over step them. I have a feeling I know what's coming next.

"Hey, Albus, I was just, err, waiting for Rose." I say, outstretching my hand, cracking a warm smile. The feeling of intense contentment washes over me as he clasps my hand firmly, smiling back at me like a brother.

Thank Merlin.

The rest of his class starts to trickle out of the doorway, the last one scampering out as a chorus of livid cries from three different voices strike up from inside.

"Whats-?" I question, assuming that Rose is one of the three. I turn to Albus with furrowed brows, coming face to face with his stern expression. He looks tremendously like his father standing here, looking at me all _I mean business._

It kind of unnerves me.

"I'll tell you in a minute, just, on a serious note here." He says.

"Sure."

He starts up, and low and behold, this is the conversation I have been anticipating; the famous Potter/Weasley boyfriends talk.

"Look, Prince, Rose is basically my sister, so I'll say this once, and once only. Please, for your own sake, do not mess her around. Or else, you'll have me and countless others to answer to. Okay?"

"Sure, but, what's classified as messing her around?" I question, being careful how I place my words. I know for a fact, that I would never mess Rose Weasley around. Not only would I want to feel the wrath of her tremendously large family, but also loosing her would be an almighty regret.

I mean seriously, who wouldn't want to go out with her? She plays quidditch, she beats me in nearly every test, she's bloody gorgeous, brave and not to mention rich and famous. My life is already planned out.

Luckily, his face cracks into his Potter grin and "Oh, I think you know." follows. I'm about to go back into the subject of why Rose is still in the dungeon, when an almighty clamour at the doorway answers my question.

I snap my head around; there, fighting in the doorway like two angry toddlers, are Rose and the scumbag Malfoy; the snide little ferret that's slept with my last two girlfriends. What a bloody wanker. They both tumble out of the doorway, and I catch wind of "bitch" winding its way out of Malfoy's mouth. He looks smug as ever, whilst Rose on the other hand looks like she could kill a Basilisk.

She starts to storm over to us, and I hear Al blow out a friendly chuckle.

"Oh and you two!" Professor Slughorn drones, causing them both to turn around like Eagles in mid-flight.

"Please, _do not_ bring your wands!"

"What!" they both cry together. I myself let a grin pass over my lips. I mentally thank the head-mistress for appointing two potions masters this year, mine being Professor Zabini.

"No whats, not buts, no quidditch, no nothing. DE-TEN-TION. End of story!" The professor booms, his face turning worryingly beetroot as he slams the heavy door with an almighty smack.

Blimey.

"This." Rose scathes, leaning her body towards Malfoy's, trying hopelessly to intimidate him. His eyes tell me the whole story as they study Rose intently; ready to take on whatever she has to throw at him.

"Is all your fault!" she hisses, snapping back round as she stomps back over to us, grabbing my hand with force comparable to when she kissed me on Platform 9 and ¾ . I squeeze it back sympathetically, hoping to provide some sort of support

"So, what did he do?" I question, as Al tenuously lets go of her other hand, looking rather amused if that's the right word.

"Be himself, that's what!" she erupts, eyes wide in malevolent anger. Before we disappear around the corner, I turn my head and give Malfoy the look he deserves. The one I've given him so often whenever he decides to mess around with my social life.

I look at Al knowingly, because I get that he's endured plenty of this to know exactly what's streaming through Rose Weasley's head at this precise moment. He nods back and goes off into the expansion of Tuesday morning's double potions.

I in fact, find it quite comical when he tells me Rose set Malfoy's tie alight. She's has some guts I'll tell you that, especially for a prefect and a Weasley. Seriously, when McGonagall finds out, she'll have a fit. I can guarantee that to you now. No doubt when Brittany Gomshaw tells her mother at _Witch Weekly_, we'll have a nice piece of gossip circulating the school.

Malfoy must really do something to her though, because for Rose, doing something that outrageous is not what it says on her label. I know Malfoy enrages a lot of people, me being one of them, but to destroy his personal property is something else entirely.

If I ever did that, he'd probably Avada me on the spot; it makes me wonder why he hasn't killed Rose already.

By the time we've reached the Astronomy Tower, she's calmed down quite a bit, probably due to the fact Gryffindor share Tuesday morning Divination with us Ravenclaw's; Also that this is the only class that allows you to fall asleep.

She's staring out of the window, unruly mahogany hair fluttering in the wind. A look of disgust gently moulds itself on her face, and her boredom fuelled gaze enters back into the classroom. She smiles at the sight of her cousin, before exuding a long, slumberous blink. I sigh deeply as I wonder if this will ever last.

"Having fun my love?" I question, gazing into her big, mysterious brown eyes.

"Mhmm." She mumbles quietly, resting her head on my shoulder, so that I can't read the expression on her face. Murmurs of my peers enter my ears as I think of something to get the ball rolling.

"So, ladies first?" I question, hoping she'd say yes. Rose Weasley is an interesting person with, I expect, interesting stories behind her Perfect daughter image. It's just no-body except her family seems able to crack her.

"How about, men just before?" she questions, and I feel this battle is lost already.

"Very well then; how about a question for me?" I ask, singling out a stray curl from her head and running it through my fingers, lavishing the silky feeling of it as she asks for my biggest fear.

"Well, that's easy." I state proudly, hoping to arouse some interest as I feel her yawn. I bumble on about the dark and spiders, briefly recalling the time in D.A.D.A when my Bogart turned in one. When she questions about my funniest moment, she half-heartedly lets out a small chuckle, to which I tell her she needed to be in Ravenclaw when it isn't really the truth. When I ask about most embarrassing comment, she teases me with "You wouldn't understand." Before she manages to finish the sentence.

Foolishly, I ask about family, and I feel her tense up. I let go of her curl when she loosely tells me about having to be perfect all the time, and I get a small sense of what must barrage her mind every day.

I look at her sympathetically and take her warm hand in mine, as she re-settles her head on my shoulder.

But then, I had to go and ask her the simple question that everyone hates to answer. I guess I handed Satan my death wish then and there.

"Rose, do you love me?"

Her face freezes up and her whole body shivers. I hear her breathe catching as she guiltily turns away towards the window. I long for her to say that one meaningful word, but fear it won't come.

"I..." she trails off wistfully as the bell rings from below us, signalling lunch break has started. She unclasps my hand and an empty feeling that is familiarly similar to when she kissed me on Platform 9 & ¾ comes back to haunt us.

"Hey Rose!" her other cousin Louis calls from somewhere in the distance, but I don't hear it as a herd of emotions flush over me like a stampede of Centaurs.

"Need to go." Rose finishes, with the words I defiantly didn't want to hear.

So, what now Harry Prince? Was she too frightened or is she falling for someone else completely?

**Okay, so I may do a few more of these. But basically, they're an insight into the other characters, kinda like a refresher.**

**Any suggestions for up and coming chapters are welcome :D**

**Forever until I die**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	11. Minor Turbulence: An Authors Note

Minor Turbulence: An Authors Note

**I thank all my lovelies out there who have subscribed to my first ever fan fiction;**

**Because you rock my world!**

I **apologize in advance**, especially to the person I must **thank the most: callmedaynuhh**, whom I promised a quick post to.

Apology for the fact that

I have **left my laptop** elsewhere than my house and have **no idea** when I will get it back.

I **hope Saturday**, so my **current chapters are on there**

An unfortunate case of a new type **of writers block** has **struck me down** people! I seem to have an **abundance of ideas** for possible chapters **14, 15**(yes, I know this is a long fic) but have **zilch for the slow n' steady stuff** in the middle.

I **have started school** already. Because rainy **England** really **sucks sometimes!**

So sorry for the up and coming delay! Please don't leave me!

Xoxoxox

MorgeeLove


	12. Chapter 11 Asinine Crush

**Disclaimer : Do you really want me to say it again? lol okay. All hail J. for creating the best thing ever.**

**Finally got my laptop back! Enjoy my lovelies, it's not brilliant but I hope it gets better in the next few chapters.**

Asinine Crush

I slip casually into the lecture room, wooden stands half full of idle Slytherins, many of whom are asleep already, heads lolling over rolled up parchment and open text books.

The forlorn ghost of Professor Binns doesn't acknowledge my late presence, as I slip woefully into the stands next to the black haired boy with his eyebrows raised in my direction. He taps his fingers irritably on the table, and the light reflects off from his Slytherin house ring.

I feel my own on my right hand ring finger. Another reminder of my heritage my family forces me to lug around. Handed down from father to son, I wonder how long it's been in the bloody family.

"Where have you been?" Greg huffs moodily from beside me, leaning over his History of Magic book like he wants to suffocate it.

"I've been dealing with Professor Shit-his-pants, if you must know." I mumble, as the ghost of the impaired Professor drones on about Troll manifestations in the early 1700's. Same thing we did last year, same essay I got and O on; whoopee. I prop my feet up on the desk and start to jot down spindly notes on some parchment.

"Right, well I'm off to catch some Z's so, cover for me mate." He states, before dropping his head to his open book, shutting his eyes. After a few minutes with his mouth open, his breathing becomes steady, and all I can think is stereotypical Slytherin. Merlin can only dream of what would be sent to me in a Howler if I fell asleep in class.

Imagining it undoubtedly makes me cringe.

"That is what led to the great rebellion in 1714, Wizarding forces led by Rego Wadiarii." The see through professor babbles on, as I note down the initials R and W.

R and W

I sub-consciously scribe out the name Rose Weasley, before hastily crossing it out when it dawns on me what I've done. I rest my head backwards on the tier behind me, rolling up the useless parchment as my mind is taken over with amorous thoughts of what it would actually be like to kiss Rose Weasley. What it would feel like to kiss someone with actual meaning. Whether or not this was just un-requited love, telling myself it's just another asinine crush on another one of Hogwarts' many gorgeous females.

I'll get over her; I hope.

My mind wanders back to our fourth year, Potions.

"Bleeding hell, what kind of a lazy shit are you?" she questions moodily, shoving over a pile of daisy roots for me to chop up.

I remember the searing pain tearing up my calf as a glass vial shattered on my leg; the shards piercing my skin like a Basilisk fang. I shot up from my stool, her laughing at my frenzied actions. I decided then and there how to shut her face up.

"Malfoy!" she screamed, as I poured the contents of our searing hot potion all over her curly head. Her mouth curved into the perfect O, launching a handful of Merlin knows what into my face.

"Fucking hell, what have you done you sleazy bitch?" I shout, arousing a cluster of suspicious glares from around the room.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight!" The class shouts, banging their fists on the desks as I try to smirk my way through the daggering pain in my calf.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Weasley, 50 points from both of your houses! I expected more from the both of you; seeing as your both top of the class!" Professor Slughorn's old if slightly psychiatric boom shrouded over everyone.

"As for the wounds you two are quite obviously sporting, please escort each other _safely_ to the hospital wing! And I will see you both here at 8.30 tomorrow, no excuses. Now out." He booms, quirking his head towards the door.

"Huh!" Rose cries, eyes as wide as jam tarts.

"You heard me Miss Weasley, now off you trot." He finishes, and I even mange to uphold my smirk as I limp laboriously out of the dungeon and off to the hospital wing.

The name ran rings around my head, so fast it hurt.

Then I remembered. Weasley, Rose Weasley. Lying silently on the bed next to me, hands and head bandaged, staring lazily out of the window opposite. I could almost feel sorry for what I did to her. But then I moved my leg, and remembered she'd done exactly the same to me.

It's funny, how she knew so little about me and I knew her outside like clockwork. How she looked and acted treacherously too old for her 14 year old boots.

_Bit like yourself Malfoy._

The way she managed to pull off wearing those peculiar metal cubes stuck on her teeth, which she named braces? How her eyes were the chasms of the deepest brown when she was infuriated. The fact she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes during a test, taking in every word as easily as air. The way she rode her broom, how her curls tapped her face and her robes eagled out behind her. How she flicked her wrist when she was duelling, in a way no-one else did.

The way she made me when I was around her.

The way she still does all of those things.

"So that's two and a half foot for Thursday evening on the History of Rego Wadiarii." Professor Binns finishes up about half an hour later, and I blow out a sigh of relief when the bell rings outside for lunch break. I've spent the remainder of the lesson dabbling in countless Shakespearian worthy thoughts, all containing one little Gryffindor who's playing cruelly with my mind.

I scrawl down the assignment in my diary, before curtly slamming Greg around the cranium before he misses lunch break.

"Windgardium Leviosa?" He questions, bleary eyed as he draws his head sharply from where he's been Slytherin Snoozing for the past 40 minutes.

"Nice try mate, more like lunch." I call as I make my way out of the heavy oak door, ramming it out from my path with a meagre two fingers. I strode through various throngs of wide eyed females, chuckling half-heartedly as the majority of them make prominent intakes of breath as I stride past them. The entrance to the grand hall slips into view, and I anticipate my stay there will be short.

An arousal of murmurs strikes up as soon as I place one foot into the Great Hall. It's not great surprise to me; no doubt this morning's incident has spread like wildfire. Though I must say it's nothing unusual for Hogwarts.

"Hey Malfoy, is it true Rose Weasley tried to strangle you with your own tie" One clueless 5th year Hufflepuff shouts at me. I'm not going to even bother sitting down today. All I'm going to get is abuse from her lot and abuse about her from my lot.

That is something I really could do without on my first Tuesday back; especially seeing as the next lesson of the day was Herbology _with_ Gryffindors. Seriously, why do they always put us with those tossers? Apparently something to do with house unity; I think not.

I grab a sandwich off the table, numerous questions still being pelted at me from all directions. I just give them all my "Shut up or get it" look, before turning on my heel and slinking my way off to the Astronomy tower, the _only_ place in this godforsaken school that upholds any privacy during the day.

My heels emit sharp, cold raps as my feet hit the stone steps leading up to the tower. I can feel fresh, crisp air lap at my face, knowing I'm nearly at the top. I breathe in a grand breath, as I survey the view from up here. You can see nearly everything, The Forbidden Forest, The Whomping Willow, The Black Lake, Dumbledore's tomb...

Being up here is a bitter-sweet stack of emotions, I neither adore it, nor do I despise it. But the thought of my own father, standing here so desolately, trying to kill his Headmaster for the sake of _Voldermort_. It makes me want to throw up; which is a very unprecedented feeling for me, one I try to ignore at all costs. I drink in the visuals before me once more, the couple under the willow tree, the trio of... what, wait.

Is that? No, it can't be. Louis Weasley, Rose Weasley and Albus Potter all huddled rather closely on a secluded rock by the lake. Sheer Slytherin curiosity burdens me as I place a nearby telescope to my eye, directing it to the trio on the rock. I thank the merit of the lens as the three of them come into view as if they were right in front of me. Weasley's head is buried deep in her knees, her cousins either side of her looking as solemn as statues.

She lifts her head and I can see her dark eyes indented with tears. The guise of remorse written all over her face makes me wants to reach out and wipe away the tears. But I know, with a despised reminder, that it is me that is so often the cause of her misery.

I draw away at a snail's pace, unsolicited rain starting to tumble down from the grey clouds above. It wipes away the once prominent vision of Hogwarts, drowning it in a watery down pour. I let out an enraptured sigh, leaning back into the wooden bench as I begin to scribe out the two and a half foot essay on Rego Wadiarii.

**Yey! So it was only short but I was so desperate to get this out to you guys. Don't worry, so much more coming your way now, the writers block has more or less apparated to someone else; sorry to that person. **

**Hey and, please press the review button... you know you want to ;) xx**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	13. Chapter 12 Truth Or Die

**I'm sorry to anyone who actually may or may not read this.**

**But no, I haven't been dead.**

**Just very very sick, accompanied by my dreaded writers block. But I'm over it.**

**Enjoy, I think!**

* * *

It's been a while.

Too long in fact.

A couple of hours, you missed Herbology. Or what _was_ Herbology before Brittany Gomshaw blew up her Mimbulus Mimbletonia over everyone. Good old Uncle Nevil, sorry, Professor Longbottom, gave the bitch what was coming her way. He made her scrub it all up _without_ magic, so we all got a free period.

Score Uncle Nevil!

So that's why I'm sitting here, positively bemusing everyone with my outstanding happiness. Want to know why? In my glorious free period, I actually managed to get my divination dream (or scream) diary done, a potions essay and read a book! Merlin, life couldn't be any more pleasant. I've even managed to lug myself around the rest of the school day, before abandoning all proceedings and practically skipping down here to dinner.

Which adds to my jovial state; if there's one thing I do as healthily as I study, it's eat. Not disgusting amounts, like Al, James, Louis or even Hugo. But a lot, nonetheless.

I beam up at James as he glides down in front of me, an ink haired girl slides into the seat beside him, winking as she does.

Oh please, gag me with a fucking spoon.

I guess what I saw from the Divination Tower wasn't a figment of my imagination; joy! At least I'm not going insane. Why don't we all sing bloody God Save the Queen?

"If I didn't know you any better, James Potter, I'd say you've just shagged the girl." Al pipes up from beside me, dark grin etched on his face as he shovels a pile of something resembling vomit into his mouth. Bloody Weasley boys.

"Agreed." I mumble, my carrots nearly reappearing on my plate as the girls face morphs into one that looks like she just swallowed Gillyweed. Luckily, she's relatively pretty and manages to mask it pretty sharpish. Clever girl.

"If I didn't know better, Albus _Severus_ Potter," James scathes, hitting his brother crudely round the head, Al's face nearly splaying into his plate. He's cringing like mad at the use of his middle name, per usual "I'd say if I have, as you put it _shagged the girl_, it is a thousand times better than still sitting in the nunnery." He finishes, rich boy smirk tugging at his mouth as he loads up his plate, which I swear will overflow at any second.

"Twat off, James. Just because we're not all knicker thieves" I sneer back, sticking my tongue out. Honestly, I can't fight these giggles any more as Albus turns nearly as red as his tomatoes. I could swear I can feel the steam spouting out of his ears.

Come on, you just have to laugh.

Al turns to me; face as scarlet as a Rose.

"Rosie...Rosie Rosie Rosie." He forces out through a painful smile. I want to slap him.

"If I wasn't so kind and generous, I would let you surpass this. But, if I am totally correct, you have a dinner date with your very own knicker thief in the dungeons, do you not?" he questions, Potter grin slowly re-taping itself onto his face.

I can feel mine morphing into something worse; shock bloody horror.

Oh shit.

"Oh shit!"

"Have fun, ickle Rosie!" I catch James shouting at me as I pelt my way to the dungeons.

I can feel my face burning up as I lightly knock on the heavy black door that was slammed in my face, only this morning.

"Come in." Professor Slughorn gurgles from somewhere inside.

_Deep breath in, deep breath out._

I push the blackened wood forward, opening my mouth to make some sort of remarkable Rose Weasley excuse, but I open my eyes and I suddenly don't require one. The classroom is empty; save one desk and the furniture behind the teacher's desk. Joy.

But there isn't a soul here, apart from Slughorn. Rose, 1 point! I glance up at the clock, 8.25 exactly.

"Your wand." The professor says, indicating to a box on his desk. I tug it from my back pocket and forsake it into the empty deposit before trundling to the last remaining desk in the room.

The heavy clock on the wall ticks by for a while; a feature of Hogwarts that has permanently pissed me off from day one. It's as if they are taunting every student, echoing the seconds until they are allowed to escape from the encapsulated classrooms.

"I'm incredulously sorry, Miss Weasley, for in convening you with this detention. You know how much I praise you, and your mother. Probably my favorite students to be frank; should join the Slug Club." He chuckles, lifting his marbled eyes from the pile of essays on his desk, nodding them towards his shelf of progressing photographs.

I just vomited inwardly.

And smiled outwardly.

"But you see, burning a fellow classmate's tie, no matter how the prejudices lie, is entirely irrational and I hope you now understand that." He grins; I can feel his eyes burrowing into my face, persisting for an answer.

"I am also incredulously sorry, Professor, and I apologize sincerely for my actions. It wasn't actually prejudices that caused such an irrational action, but I promise you it won't happen again." I say to my feet, because I hate apologizing, especially for something I _enjoyed_ doing.

But that's not the way we get to the top.

"Accepted, Miss Weasley. But I assure you, Mr. Malfoy and yourself should probably clear your ground, because your partnered up for the rest of the year!" he chimes, as the door clicks and I've nearly started hyperventilating.

"Sorry Professor, I got...caught up." Comes a distant voice from somewhere, but my thoughts are more engaging.

Please, Merlin, God, Satan, whatever is above me, but I assume Satan at this moment in time. This is not frikkin happening! No! I. AM. DOOMED!

Re-phrase, I am dead.

"Enjoying the view?" A silky drawl slides into my head, and I suddenly recollect the burning blush scrabbling at my cheeks. To him, it probably looks like another girl he's got in the palm of his hand; Fecking fab.

"Disdaining the truth, actually." I matter-of-factly throw back, not being able to fight the urge to throw him a scathing glance. Sitting all couldn't give a shit; Silky hair all over the place and lips slightly swollen, smirk sewn from ear to ear. Yes Malfoy, so hard to guess where you got "caught up."

"Which is?" he pries, flicking his captivating gaze towards the Professor, and I mirror him carefully.

Under my breath, I mutter "Guess what, fish mate? I'm your new potions partner!" adding a gleeful (and yes, very real, not) smile to the end.

"Oh my fuck." He responds; Malfoy all over; all 6 feet of his blond hair, mysterious eyes and musky cologne. All the X and Y chromosomes that have girls queuing up for him like Dumbledore got resurrected and is signing autographs.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy." Slughorn warns, and I subtly snort with laughter, crossing my arms haughtily across my chest.

"Alright," Slughorn begins, clapping his hands together like he just found the world biggest cake.

Oh bloody hell.

An hour and a half later of knocking Malfoy awake whilst Slughorn drabbled on, and mentally kicking myself for letting my own eyes drop, I can't really remember how we ended up in this situation. I mean, chuckling like I'm on drugs, out of my mind, delusional and looking straight into a pair of the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Thank god Professor Slughorn left.

Not something Rose Weasley does every day. I'm going to put it down to the scores of tester potions Slughorn has made us drink, rate and write about.

The door won't open until every single ruddy assessment is complete, so I have a bad itch that we could be stuck in here for a while.

"Last one." Malfoy grimaces, passing me a shot as his head flips back, consuming the liquid in one; bloody alcoholic Slytherin. Here we go.

Merlin, that tastes repulsive; and it's making my head feel funny.

"What was that?" I question, trying to do something to calm this fury of whatever by hitting my chest. It, unfortunately, isn't working.

"Veritaserum." He drawls serenely, famous smirk perching on his all too perfect lips.

"You are fucking joking me!" I cry, and I can feel my bloody blush crawling all over my face. I grab the piece of parchment from the desk, squinting in my gauche state. That loathsome sinking feeling rockets somewhere down in my stomach as the very word appears before me.

And for the second time today, the phrase oh shit springs to mind.

"Oh shit." I mutter out loud, clapping my hand over my mouth, as the truth comes spilling out un-willingly.

"So, Weaslette, truth or death?" Malfoy says inquisitively, body shifting to face my own and I can smell him more than before.

I suddenly feel explicitly self conscious in my jeans and t-shirt, finding my shoes very interesting all of a sudden.

".Fuck?" I state slowly, pronouncing each syllable like I'm talking to a dumb arse dementor. Oh, wait, I am.

"Tell the truth, Weasley, or you die." He says again, voice heavy with a superior tone he shields himself with all too often. I really should say no, especially under Veritaserum. But that's the problem...

"Game on!" slips out of my mouth before it registers, and I re-adjust myself so I can have some sort of higher presence over him. He raises a blond eyebrow; I raise both of mine, because unfortunately my eyebrows can't work alone.

"Fine, ladies first. I can finally get some dirt on you, Miss Perfect. How about, what is your biggest fear?" he drawls.

"Easy, Mr. Perfect. And might I add what a pathetic question. My biggest fear is..." I start, pausing for a second as I anticipate a rather large hiccup arising. No sooner has it come out; another very perplexing noise that sounds rather close to a chuckle comes from somewhere that is not my mouth.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Getting old."

Now, a noise that is mostly undeniably a laugh is lapsing feverishly out of Scorpius' perfect mouth, unexplainably gorgeous and meaningful. I have a hunch that this is not a sound I will ever hear again. And it hurts.

But the game continues.

Biggest Fear?

_What a stupid question. Well, I fear nothing what- __Somebody not loving me back_

Oh, so un-Malfoy_. _And so very deep. Aww.

_Shut it, d__irtiest secret?_

Fucking weird Scor- I...I actually hate Harry Prince.

_What the fuck?__ Ha, that's bloody hilarious._

Shut it, yourself. So spill, dirtiest secret?

_Wait a sec Ro- I'__m in love with someone I shouldn't even like._

Ah ha, interesting. I can use that in an argument.

_Don't you dare Weasley. __Besides, what would you do if you had me in a broom cupboard for 7 minutes?_

Absolutely noth- snog you senseless. Oh Merlin!

At this point my Weasley blush decides to invade my face, and I hastily begin to scribble down some meaningless words down on the parchment.

"Besides, what would _you_ do with me, if you had me in a closet for 7 minutes?" I question, still not dragging my eyes from the scribbled mess, but intrigued all the same.

*Cough-mutter-cough*

"Sorry, I didn't quite hear that." I say innocently, turning to stare at his now flushed face. I nearly topple off the stool when I realize just _how_ close he is. As in, he's close enough that I can feel his warm breath, which is making me feel funny.

_Get a grip Rose_

"I said, lock the door and never-." He whispers, but I dot the full stop on the end of the sentence and the bulky door suddenly clicks.

I feel a swoosh and catch a glimpse of Platinum hair streaking from the doorway, before I've registered he's gone.

Oh my Merlin.

I just played Truth or Die with Malfoy.

And drank a shot of Veritaserum, which, I think, has worn off.

I just played Truth or Die with Malfoy.

And I think my crush just got a whole lot bigger.

I grab my wand from the front desk, and then run blindly from that classroom.

**So, hmm?**

**Any ideas, reviews, thoughts?**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	14. Chapter 13 Clueless and Crazy

**This chapter sucks soo much words cannot describe!**

**I may re-write some day...**

Chapter 13 - Clueless and Crazy

"Brittany, put your fucking tits away." I glower in the faint light.

Problem, Brittany Gomshaw has decided I'm becoming "distant" and that we needed some more "alone time".

Especially when alone time, means being tongue attacked in a dark corridor.

"Awww, baaabe, you know you don't really mean th-haaat!" she giggles, squeezing her body against mine like I'm a bloody banana tree and she's a monkey.

"I know I do." I say, trying to shake her off. For once, I'm going to have to discriminate my own kind by this; dumb blonde. Does she not get the Fecking picture? Well, all else aside, she probably wasn't even blonde to start with.

"Come on, or I'm going to suspect something's going on!" comes the Barbie bitch, squealing in my ear again, prodding me in the chest. If only something _was_ going on.

"Well, come on yourself and get back to the common room, or somebody _else_ is going to suspect something's going on!" I pry, reverting my obscured vision up to the ceiling.

"But _Scorpy_, its ooonly 8.30!" she coos, in her "cheapo tart seductive" voice.

Excuse me whilst I puke.

Wait a sec. Oh fuck, did she just...

"Did you just say 8.30?" I cry, I can feel my eyes widen as I anticipate how much satisfaction my watchwoman will have reporting this to Professor McGonagall; fucking bitch.

"I am ever so sorry; _babe_, but I have a detention. Adios!" I shout, as I run down the corridor, catching the last snatch of _but I don't know what Adiboss means._

Merlin, grow up child.

"Sorry Professor, I got...caught up." I state conspicuously as I enter the bore your arse off dungeon, the temperature harsh against my flushed cheeks. Funnily enough, there's someone already in here about 50 times redder than myself.

Accompanied by a rug of curls attached to her head and looking like she's only here in body form, I can't help wondering how she manages to pull it off.

She does look kind of cute when she's confused; or angry for that matter.

Besides, I'm side tracking.

"Enjoying the view?" I whisper as I slide down next to her, feeling her whole body tense up.

"Disdaining the truth, actually." She throws back at me in her usual I_ am Rose Weasley and you are a pile of poop _voice.

I feel my body being surveyed begrudgingly, not appeased with the state I am holding up for her. Ohh, Is little Weaslette jealous?

_Dream on Malfoy_

"Which is?" I pry, reverting my bored gaze to the fat professor at the front of the room. However, from the corner of my eye I spy her going a whole lot of crimson again.

"Guess what, fish mate? I'm your new potions partner!" she mutters, flashing her white teeth at me like she wants to bite my nose off; which wouldn't look very nice.

I snort inwardly.

Oh sweet Merlin.

"Oh my fuck." Is all that is possible to get out of my mouth. You can't honestly be serious? I mean come on, working for a whole fucking year with Rose Weasley! Monthly detentions here I come! Oh, and tie burning; which reminds me, I haven't got my new one from her yet.

"Language, Mr. Malfoy." Slughorn warns, Weasley snorting with laughter as she crosses her arms all triumphantly over her chest. I'm really regretting not bringing my wand. If only I could make her kiss a Blast ended skrewt's arse now.

I nod towards the front of the classroom; my pathetic excuse for an apology. What would my grandfather have to say about that, hey?

"Alright," Slughorn begins, clapping his hands together like he just realized he is the biggest arse licker on this planet.

Here we go.

An hour and a half later of being rammed in the ribs the second my eyes closed, I honestly don't remember how I managed to actually get here. Laughing at one of Weasel's jokes is not usually what occupies my Tuesday evenings. In truth, I feel exactly how I did the first time I got drunk. Good times.

Just this time, I don't really mind being here. Because I'm absolutely fucking clueless and crazy.

I have to hand it to the "_how many chins in a Chinese telephone directory_?" Professor. He left as soon as he dumped his 20 tester potions on us. I was about to comment on a, children's right and b, health and safety. But I like to take a risk.

"Last one."I grimace, as I down the shot of Veritaserum like water. Though, Merlin it tastes awful.

"What was that?" Weasley questions from beside me, thumping hard on her chest and spluttering all over my shoes. Cheers, love.

Obviously, this girl doesn't drink Firewhiskey.

"Veritaserum." I smirk, as her face turns all red again.

"You are fucking joking me!" she cries, eyes wide as she snatches the parchment on the desk; yep, she trusts me so much.

"Oh shit." Rose mutters out loud, clasping her hand to her mouth as the exact words on her mind come spilling out of her perfect mouth.

Congratulations, Weasley, round of applause.

"So, Weaslette, truth or death?" I say inquisitively, narrowing my eyes as my own truth pops out un- willingly.

Yes okay, go ahead, say it. Malfoy, what a freak, you want to play truth or death with your mortal enemy slash crush of your life? Well, flobberworm brains, my point exactly. Hopefully, the more I know, the more I feel repulsed.

I hope.

Just praying here that I don't go ask her who she'd like to shag or something.

".Fuck?" she states slowly, making sure to pronounce each syllable so I can catch it. Unfortunately, my brain works on a considerably higher wave than hers. It's called class and charm.

Hers is kind of like, well; basically, Rose Weasley believes she is a dictionary.

"Tell the truth, Weasley, or you die." I say again, sounding like a parrot. I make sure I use my class and charm voice too.

"Game on!" comes out of her mouth amazingly fast. I raise and eyebrow, she raises both. This girl is _defiantly_ intoxicated.

"Fine, ladies first. I can finally get some dirt on you, Miss Perfect. How about, what is your biggest fear?" I drawl.

"Easy, Mr. Perfect. And might I add what a pathetic question. My biggest fear is..." she starts, as her eyes slowly widen, suddenly her mouth pops open and a gigantic hiccup comes from now-where. And it's just one of those moments where you actually see the real person behind the mask. That was it. So, I have to suppress once more the snicker coming from mouth.

She raises her eyebrows; "Getting old."

Okay, you can't blame me for letting this laugh out. Come on, afraid of something that is going to happen to us? Bull crap.

_Biggest Fear?_

What a stupid question. Well, I fear nothing, what- Somebody not loving me_ back_

_Oh, so un-Malfoy. And so very deep. Aww._

Shut it, dirtiest secret?

_Fucking weird Scor- I...I actually hate Harry Prince._

What the fuck? Ha, that's bloody hilarious.

_Shut it, yourself. So spill, dirtiest secret?_

Wait a sec Ro- I'm in love with someone I shouldn't even like. **(Oh shit)**

_Ah ha, interesting. I can use that in an argument._

Don't you dare Weasley. Besides, what would you do if you had me in a broom cupboard for 7 minutes?

_Absolutely noth- snog you senseless. Oh Merlin!_

Her whole face goes that famous Scarlet red, tickling at her neck, slowly creeping up to her cheeks, spreading like a flood in a ditch. I suddenly space my brain somehow into the real world again as I hear the sound of scratching quill to parchment.

And I cannot believe I asked that fucking question.

Hey wait a sec, did she just say-

"Besides, what would _you_ do with me, if you had me in a closet for 7 minutes?" She questions, still not detaching her eyes away from the messy worksheet she's still scrabbling away at.

" LockthedoorneverletyououtanddoeverythingIhavewantedtodoforthelast3years." I mutter quietly under my breath, praying, seriously praying she didn't just hear that. Can you even begin to imagine the embarrassment? Merlin.

"Sorry, I didn't quite hear that." She says all Miss Apple Pie Innocence, turning slowly to face me, brown eyes liquidizing my heart in one fail swoop. And she's so close I can almost taste her strawberry breathe on my lips.

_Get a grip __Malfoy_

"I said, lock the door and never-." I whisper, but thank Merlin, the door clicks and I leg it out of there before I really do say something stupid.

I mean, I really loosing my touch; playing fucking Truth or Death with Weasley. My theory didn't work, did it? I now, unfortunately, fancy Rose Weasley a whole lot more. So there's only one place I can go.

**And merci for reading this pooey chapter!  
Shiny button?**

**:)  
MorgeeLove**

**x**


	15. Chapter 14 erised stra ehru oyt ube ca

**Okay, so sorry for people who didn't have a clue who this was or where it came from. Will add extra bit now! :)XX Excuse bad grammar etc. :P**

Chapter 14 - erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

_Scorpius. It's there. On the left in the room with lots of weird things hanging from the roof. Just look if your so confused!  
_

_Oh, there. _

_Congratulations, my son._

_Yeah, but what does it do?_

_It shows you what you want. I never knew what I wanted when I was your age. Just thought I had to make your grandfather happy to be honest. But I found this, and my problems where solved. I'm showing you this for the same purpose._

_To please grandfather?_

_To show you how you can be happy._

_erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_

But now, I want to smash it.

I actually want to fucking smash it.

This can't be happening. No way on earth. If this thing was magic, my hearts desire, I wouldn't be looking at this.

Honestly, anything but this; anything. This isn't my heart's desire, it can't be. More like the desire of my loins. No fucking no.

This has to be in my head. It's all a repetition of before. It's all because what I see in the mirror is unobtainable to me; out of reach. Like the crown jewels, Tutankhamen's sarcophagus.

Apart from curly hair and brown eyes staring at me from a piece of old glass is no where near as out of reach as the bloody crown jewels!

My finger receives cold tingles as it presses against the pane, touching the reflection to check that she isn't actually standing there. Nothing. Merlin's balls, I'm loosing my fucking mind. It's just dark, her and me.

Stupid shitty mirror of bloody Erised. I feel my legs start to move away backwards from the mirror, drawing me away before the confusions set in. My hand swipes at something wet on my face, then another.

That, this, whatever this that _is, _should not be fucking happening.

**e-Butterbeer Cheers!**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**


	16. Chapter 15 Toast and Yolk

There it is, per usual.

My life spread page one and beyond across the parchment for the world and his wife to look at; fucking great.

Headline this morning: _Wound Up Weasley_

_The fired frenzy continues, but did Rose Weasley just step over the line?_

Oh please, thank-you so much Witch Weekly! Thank-you, you know, because the 5 page spread in your magazine accompanied by little snippets from class mates, and pictures of numerous Weasley's and Malfoy's I think just made my day. Wait, sorry, correction...just made my life!

Oh, and I almost forgot, there's the shreds of not one, not two, not three, but four howlers residing on the wooden table top. Mum, Dad, Grandma Molly and Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny all thought they'd share their thoughts with the whole school this morning. I nearly died of embarrassment after the first one; you can just imagine how red I was after number four.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now. But no, because every bloody time something happens to any one of us Weasley/Potters its like, how do I put it, Lucius Malfoy, per se, has ditched his whole head-up-his-own-arse facade and is handing out free ice-creams. That'll be the day.

I'm just really, really pissed now. I have the whole Slytherin table leering, making it impossible to even get a spoon of cereal down my throat because every second a piece of toast hits my head. Did I mention one was slathered in egg yolk? I let James and Al release all that stored up anger of theirs on the poor guy; serves him right.

So, I've resumed my scouring the almighty depths of the great hall, waiting for the piece of shit that should be wallowing in his ego pool to arrive. Surprised... so am I to be honest. Like, where the hell is he? The little piece of shit that set this up has had a nice bat-bogey hex planted on her face, courtesy of Louis. Seriously, if you want to spite someone, do not put your fucking name on the bottom of the article, _Brittany Gomshaw. _But, getting back to the point, where in Merlin's name is he? I expect having a little victory shag, with his Alexandra bint he found on the train.

My hand reaches into my pocket, touching the brown parcel just to make sure it's still there. I will not grant him any more satisfaction.

Ouch, what the...

"Oh, sorry Weasley, I didn't see you there, with all that toast surrounding you. Must be comfort eating, you know, with all the stress. It must be so hard being you, famous daughter. I must say though, you most definitely did cross the line. I seem to notice my new tie has not yet arrived either." The shit hole smirks, shining his big white teeth in my face. I reach up, making sure there was no yolk on whatever he just through at me. The whole Slytherin table starts to bellow their malevolent sneers in my face.

Slytherin, the kingdom of Malfoy.

Remind me why I wanted him to come down to breakfast in the first place?

"Liking the quotations, Malfoy." I respond, turning slowly back around to my plate, grabbing Al's fist from under the table. I can feel a thousand eyes turn on me, everything hushing around me. They're waiting, for the usual flamboyant display whenever WePo and Malfoy collide. Well...

"Oh, you shan't have to notice your missing tie anymore!" I sing back, flinging the brown package from my pocket, hitting him right between the eyes. Three quarters of the hall starts to roar with laughter.

Hogwarts, kingdom of Rose.

That enough is satisfaction in itself. To save my dignity, I think now is a rather safe time to make my exit.

"Ciao ciao, enjoy the tie!" I laugh, wiggling my fingers to the space behind me as I walk assertively from the hall, my family and friends in tow. What a sight I must be.

"And then his face, Rose I died and fell back to Earth on my bum!" Julie Partridge giggles from somewhere down the corridor. I pretend to smile back, eyes glazed over with thought as I smile to the wall. I'm mentally thanking admin in this school that Wednesday mornings for me is Arithmancy with Ravenclaw's. Then again, I'm not. I haven't even set eyes on Harry Prince since yesterday, and I didn't really intend to for a while. A long while, actually. I'm just glad that I'm still a prefect after all this. I dread to think exactly how many howlers I'd get is that'd happen; I dread to think how many would be from Mum.

Shudder.

"Sorry to hold you up class, do come in." Comes a smooth male voice from the doorway; obviously our new Arithmancy teacher, Professor Bellus. I turn to enter the classroom, and my sigh is echoed by the 15 or so other girls hovering outside the door. Oh my Merlin, swoon. I – I can't describe him. It's like Christmas came early. How gorgeous can you get? Like, wow.

Imagine Scorpius Malfoy. Now imagine Harry Prince, then Louis. Then imagine them all in one body, fifty million times cuter and more attractive - plus, older and better built. There, you now have Professor Bellus.

"Fittie." I hear someone murmur behind me; agreed.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, I was awfully curious whether it really was _you_ in my class! Welcome!" he sings cheerfully, beckoning me into the classroom. I step inside, nodding and smiling, someone banging me in the shoulder as I walk slowly to the side of the classroom, shutting my open mouth. I'm followed by the entire female population of the class, who all have their eyes on exactly the same guy. Wow.

Somehow, he seems to ignore the dumbfounded girls all giggling as he points to tables, arranging the seating plan in boy girl boy girl. The girls at the front squeal in delight, clapping their hands like giddy first years. Lena Hunt grins at me as she gets seated in the second row, and I have to smile back when Al dumps his bags sheepishly in the seat next to her. Aww.

"And Miss Weasley, here, and you Sir..." Professor Bellus' voice comes into my head.

"Harry Prince."

"Mr Prince, you next to Miss Weasley. Lucky man!" he finishes and I wheel around to my left, not realising exactly who was standing next to me. Oh shit. Harry smiles at the Professor, and then tilts his head and smiles at me. I smile back, as we make our way to the wooden desk, I'm so glad he's not pissed, like, really glad. Thank-you, Merlin, for turning this into an alright day.

"Seriously, if lessons are going to be that easy for the whole year, we will all get O's, no jokes!" Harry laughs from beside me. We're reminiscing over our unproblematic Arithmancy lesson, which consisted of finding out each others compatibility. Funnily enough, you know with my luck, I had zero compatibility with both the names Albus Potter and Harry Prince, but my character number matches none other than Mr Scorpius Malfoy. I nearly pissed myself.

"I know mate, even Allie Pallie here found it easy, now that's saying something!" Louis grins from next to him, sending Al on my right into a red tomato as he rushes forwards to engage himself with Lena. Can he keep himself away from the girl?

"Aww, and it looks like he's finding the girls easy as well!" I giggle, my hand reaching air as the banister ends.

"What next?" Harry questions, scratching the back of his head as Brittany Bitch Gomshaw swishes past us, wiggling her bum in everyone's face as she totters off towards the dungeons. Oh great.

"Unfortunately, her." I sigh, nodding my head towards the disappearing figure of my now second worst enemy.

"What the fuck Rose, are you a lesbian?" Louis hisses quietly, snapping round to glare all confused in my face. Huh? Oh right, I just realised how utterly strange what I just said sounded.

"No, Louis," I laugh, walking after Al and Lena as they both head down the gloomy corridor I am destined for.

"I just have potions, with my two bezzies, Malfoy and Brittany. See you!" I call, as my eyes shroud over with gloom and the stench of damp tickles my nostrils. No wonder Slytherins are so grouchy, the live in a stink hole. My feet echo off the walls as I continue down towards the classroom, until I reach the divided crowd blocking the entrance to the classroom. I remember what Professor Slughorn said last night, and I groan inwardly as the door heaves open. Once again, here we go.

"I never confirmed, so we're bezzies now, are we?" Malfoy questions from beside me, his overly inflated ego swallowing me up once more as I sweat over the latest of our assigned concoctions. As usual, Mr Perfect is more concerned about how his hair is sitting than his grade, so he has taken to asking me stupid question relating to the happenings of last night. To be more than sensible, I've stuck with keeping my trap shut, because of two very perilous reasons.

One, I do not want to enter the world that is _what would you do with me if you had me in a broom cupboard for seven minutes_.

And two is I do not want to enter the other world that is _take the piss out of Malfoy, burn his tie and have it splashed across the news for days to come._

I'm not too sure which one I wish to avoid most, but both seem as forbidding right now.

"Not going to answer me? How rude." He drawls again, and I really want to yank his tie off of him and burn it again, just to see what his face would be like. I settle with an irate glare in his direction instead. Scorpius Malfoy will not get to me now, not when it's only a single period of Potions. If this is how the rest of the year is going to unfold, so be it.

"Nope, okay. Suit yourself, Weaslette." Comes out from his lips in return. Geez, this guy is bothersome. Especially now that he's purposefully drumming his hands on the desk, eyeing me comically, waiting for a response. The clouds of smoke from the potion fill my head, my thoughts calming as I slightly drown out the sound. For fucks sake.

"And so class, we will be continuing with this next lesson. See you all tomorrow." Professor Slughorn drones robotically from the front of the classroom, and once again I get out of the classroom at lightening speed. This time, Malfoy can clean up the mess.


	17. Chapter 16 Headache

**Okay, this is kind of a trashy, weird chapter, but I promise it will get better!**

**The writing I mean!**

**Read on...:)**

Chapter 16 - Headache

My headache has all but gone as I reach the entrance hall, a few stray students making their way through the great oak doors. I glance back down to my watch, and I'm only fifteen minutes late. I can't have missed that much. But whatever my lot have done to Weasley, she deserves it. Publically humiliating me, totally uncalled for. Brittany was polite enough to leave her article on the end of my bed this morning, accompanied by some pink card that went straight in the trash.

The headline Wound up Weasley was much more appealing. After my little episode last night, it was the perfect wake up call; reminding me exactly who I am and what I _should_ be doing. I should definitely not be consulting some foreseeing mirror. My mind is firmly back where it should be. Then I spot her, as my heels softly knock against the gray flagstones. She's quite an amusing sight this morning, surrounded by a heap of toast and shreds of paper. Greg sends me a smug look from nearby, as I cough lightly, coming to stall behind her curly head.

I grab a piece of toast from my table, about to add to the ever growing pile around her. And flick...

...and turn. The Weasley blush greets me as her body shifts around, eyes narrowing at me, followed by pretty much the rest of the Great Hall. Perfect, time for some of her own medicine.

"Oh, sorry Weasley, I didn't see you there, with all that toast surrounding you. Must be comfort eating, you know, with all the stress. It must be so hard being you, famous daughter. I must say though, you most definitely did cross the line. I seem to notice my new tie has not yet arrived either." I smirk, folding my arms loosely across my chest as her face mould itself into a scowl, making a furrowed line on her forehead. Then, she begins to turn back around, grabbing her cousin's arm as his body shifts, about to rise from his seat.

I get his scowl as well. Charming.

I hear the Slytherins behind me all start to roar in amusement, more bits of toast making their way across to her head but never quite making it. How easy this is.

"Liking the quotations, Malfoy." She responds, as her body finally stops moving. I'm really tempted to throw another bit of toast at her head; see if I can land her another detention. See if I can get some more dirt on her, though this time without nearly spouting poetry that shouldn't even have been created.

"Oh, you shan't have to notice your missing tie anymore!" is added, and her hand gently reaches for her pocket. I expect Miss Goody Two Shoes turned rock rebel has decided to, I don't know, duel me in front of the whole school, just to humiliate herself even more. Well, bring it on, I think to myself, as I square up, ready with my wand in my enclosed fist.

But then, something cushioned hits me right in the forehead, and the rest of the hall burst out into a fit of laughter and snorts, ringing out into my ears, nearly flaring up a blush before I manage to register what's going on.

"Ciao ciao, enjoy the tie!" Weasley laughs, wiggling her fingers at me as she rises from her seats and glides carelessly down the isle, leading her little posse out from the doors. I slam myself down on the bench, grabbing the parcel before I get showered in toast myself. Well, that went terrifically, didn't it?

"...potions, with my two bezzies, Malfoy and Brittany. See you!"I hear Weasley's haughty voice call to someone as she disappears down the gloomy corridor.

"Nice, mate." Greg grins darkly from beside me, shunting his elbow into my rib suggestively.

"Honestly, I think transforming a hedgehog into a rock was nicer." I grimace, sliding through the wide berth that everyone has created for the both of us as we too head into the gloom. My body barely responds as the temperature plummets, even to a rating of cold, as we walk further and further.

"Oh for fucks sake." Greg grumbles under his breath as we reach the two crowds flitting around the dungeon door. I follow his eye line, coming to rest upon some brunette Gryffindor.

"Get used to them; you've had 6 years mate. Gryffindor girls are nothing to be afraid of." I laugh back, completely confused as to why he's so pissed off. Of course, with that statement, I'm lying through my teeth. And we all know why, don't we?

"No, nice try. Phft, like I'm scared of pathetic Gryffindors. Actually, for your information, I have been paired with none other than _that_ skank," he says moodily, nodding his head disgustedly towards the girl "What a lovely Professor Slughorn is! Though, I heard your girlfriend got Albus Potter, if I am not correct. We're going to have so much fun!" he finishes through gritted teeth, giving me his look that asks me how on earth I can compare.

Tough luck for Brittany anyhow. I raise my eyebrow.

"You think you got it bad." I drawl back, glaring at the back of _her_ head.

"Oh my fucking Merlin, you got Weasley?" Greg laughs this time, raising his own eyebrows as his whole body shakes with laughter.

"Do you want me to hex you, or are you just pretending so that your Gryffindor bitch can carry you to the hospital wing?" I sneer, voice heavy with sarcasm as I follow the class in through the doorway.

Greg leans in as I sit down, talking so that only him, I and obviously Weasley can hear.

"Not too sure, but let me know what you're planning on doing with this one." He says, knocking me round the head as he stalks off to his own seat, somewhere behind me. I murmur quietly under my breath, and sure enough the sound of body falling on stone followed by _Fuck off Malfoy_ comes into earshot. How I wish everyone was so easy to spite. I turn round to watch Professor Slughorn scratch something on the board, catching Weasley eyeing me all stupidly out of the corner of my eye.

I'm trying hard to keep my attention focused on the right place, seeing as I'm sitting right behind her at moment, if you get the picture.

Greg seems to be having just as much fun with his new Gryffindor gal pal. Apart from, for me, I'm finding it difficult to do anything because the infatuating girl in front of me refuses to say a word. I'm not one for a lot of questions, but this is just getting aggravating.

I suppose she doesn't want to embarrass herself after last night. Doesn't want to confess her undying love to me in front of all her class mates. Well, if that's the case, I should really me keeping my mouth shut.

"I never confirmed, so we're bezzies now, are we?" I question, rocking back on my chair as she stirs furiously with the wooden spoon, almost splashing the potion everywhere. Well, it's her loss.

"Not going to answer me?" again "How rude." I drawl again, this time getting an irritated glare shoved in my face before she hastily turns around again. At least I got a reaction. Wonder if tickling her in the ribs or something would provoke some kind of words, though I predict she's just slag of someone's mother and use the Lords name in vain.

"Nope, okay. Suit yourself, Weaslette." I return, resting my hand on the desk and drumming my pale fingers, smirking as I look into her infuriated brown eyes. It's almost funny, nearly enough to make me want to laugh. But then again, I can't do that can I? I'd simply shatter my family's reputation in one fail swoop I suppose. Then my head snaps back round to the front.

"And so class, we will be continuing with this next lesson. See you all tomorrow." Professor Slughorn drones from in front of me, and I rise slowly from my seat, making sure I take my time to place everything in my bag.

"Mr Malfoy, would you mind cleaning up your desk? Unfortunately, I don't get paid to clean up your mess." He says, physically pushing me around by the shoulders and shunting me towards my desk. The cauldron is still steaming, with a whole stack of debris and rubbish littered around it.

"Bitch." I murmur under my breath.

"Agreed." I hear several people groan back, lifting up my head to find nearly every male from the class still at their workbench. Oh great; fucking brilliant.

**Merci for reading this installment.**

**And thank-you if you wish to read what comes after this :D**

**(Oh, and basically, Slughorn has put everybody Boy-Girl Slytherin-Gryffindor for potions partners. Aw c'mon, I just had to! =] )**

**MorgeeLove**

**x**

* * *


	18. Chapter 17 Anything for the Family

Chapter 17 – Duties

I guess I've always been pretty crap when it comes to remembering stuff like where I put my quills or, you know, that luminous green jumper Grandma Molly gave me for Christmas (She's starting to loose her eyesight, or mind, or both)

Oh, and also the fact that tomorrow is one of Hogwarts' biggest social gatherings. Great; you know sometimes I really amaze myself with the fact that I can remember all of the enchantments under D in "_Everyday Enchantments Everyone Should Know_," the night before the exam, but don't remember to reply to that owl Al sent me about 5 months ago.

Merlin, I'm weird.

"...And for you, Grift and Handman, that'll be 50 lanterns, 5 ice sculptures and as many mistletoe hangings as you can find. All enchanted." James ordered to the two fifth year prefects, as they nodded vigorously, smiling as they scampered off to fulfil their duties.

"And as for you Mr Malfoy, I suspect you will require 20 contraception potions, 8 pairs of underwear, 5 bottles of cologne and I mustn't forget the 50 tonnes of ego that need to be delivered to your dormitory." I muttered to my nails, flicking some dirt onto the back of Malfoy's pressed robes as him and some Slytherin tart turn and give me death glares.

"Opposed to the 101 beauty spells to your dormitory, Weasley." He spits back, glowering down on me like a panther.

"Hey, how did you know I was getting you that for Christmas; special connection or something...perhaps? Or not. Besides, I'll make sure I deliver everything personally." I beam back through gritted teeth as he glides forwards to receive his own list for the Christmas Ball preparations. Yes, you heard me right. Hogwarts is having a Christmas Ball! Apparently, it's to promote house unity within the student body; so basically we all get impregnated by some Slytherin slime and, voila, we are united, by sperm and egg making a little squirmy, shrieking baby. Joy of all joys – note the sarcasm.

"Oi, tiny cousin and brother, step forward and bow down." James calls bossily, eyebrows raised and cocky smile spread across his face as Al and I slide our way forwards. I know what your thinking, how ironic that, oh wait, the head boy is Harry Potter's son, the Gryffindor prefect is also Harry Potter's son, and mustn't forget, the other Gryffindor prefect just so happens to be Harry Potter's niece. What and absolute coincidence! I know, because I felt exactly the same when I got my badge, not.

"Unfortunately, brother, for some reason I'm not going to bow down to you." Al says, crossing his arms in defence.

"And just because you are standing on a platform, _therefore_ making me tini_er_, I will not bow down to you either, ego weighted cousin." I finish off, raising my own eyebrows at his messy auburn head.

"40 tables, 400 chairs, 20 Christmas trees and 50 holly wreaths." Judy Welch sniffs as Al starts to stalk off before I've even stuffed that into my memory.

"Bloody hell, is my f'ing brother trying to kill me or do I just have a terrific bout of bad luck today." Al huffs as he stalks out into the cold, crisp air, his heavy breath transforming into great big cloud puffs as it freezes. Its one o clock already, but I tell you it's as freezing as hell. Well, maybe not hell, but something along those lines.

Luckily it's a Saturday and Hogsmeade is open for business. Otherwise I don't know how the hell we are otherwise supposed to magically find a bunch of dining sets and Christmas trees.

"Al," I say, in my _I know something's up voice_. It always works a treat, "what's up?"

He hunches up uncomfortably as we're ushered into a carriage with a massive holding cart on the back, presumably to fit all the shit for the ball in.

"Don't want to talk about it." He mumbles as his eyes flit all around the carriage compartment, trying to find something to distract himself. I know he'll cave any minute.

"Aw, c'mon Al, rich boy, best buddy..." I trail, still looking at him as I nudge him with my shoulder. He blows out an exasperated sigh, then finally,

"Okay, you win. Well, you see, eh. Well you know Lena?" he asks, scratching the back of his head nervously as he does so.

I nod my head. Oh Merlin, I think I know what's coming.

"Well, you see, I..., oh man, okay I asked her to the ball, and she..." he trails wistfully.

"Said no?" I ask, whilst moving myself so that I can give him a hug. I feel so bad for him. As he hugs back, I can tell he feels sorry for himself too.

"No, she – she kind of has a boyfriend." He murmurs as I pull out of the hug to look at his face.

"What, no way? Aw, Allie." I say as I pull a sad puppy dog face. He laughs, and l hope I've just saved the day. I can't stand when he's down; it makes me feel all bad about myself. Especially seeing as Lena's been flirting with, well, since forever.

"Rose, I am not Allie. I am a man and a Gryffindor. I think I can cope with my first rejection!" he laughs as he plonks his arm around my shoulder.

A man and a Gryffindor; you know, to say how much he hates James, he always sounds exactly like him in this kind of situation.

"Okay, big Gryffindor man. But, you know, I'm a loner too. I'll go with you; because we can't have Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor going to the ball alone now, can we?" I laugh back. Even though Al isn't exactly _the most_ eligible bachelor in Hogwarts (yes, you guessed his name, begins with S and rhymes with Orpheus) I'm suggesting, you know because, one, Harry Prince just assumes he and I are going together and two, at least I don't have to think about my date trying to get into my pants.

"Huh, but what about your boyfriend?" Al questions all confused, looking at me like I just sprouted a third eye.

"Al, if it happened that you were a girl, I would right now be able to be incredibly smart and witty and tell you chicks before dicks. Unfortunately, you aren't, but I think you get the jest of what I'm trying to say." I tell him with a smile on my face, and thank Merlin that I have a cousin and best friend smart enough to figure that one out.

"Merlin Rose, how many dresses do you have to try on?" I hear Al groan from outside the changing booth in Madame Malkin's. I hear his head bumping against the wall in annoyance and the rush of giggles coming from every girl's mouth that is currently in here buying their dress. Obviously, I'm not alone on that front.

Yes, because just as easily as I forgot about the ball, I forgot my dress for the ball. It wasn't until we bumped into Lily and she asked what I was wearing that I spouted the curse words of realisation that I had nothing to wear.

I know that all Al wants to do is get out of here because outside are a load of fifth years parading about in his face, wearing dangerously low v-neck dresses in every putrid colour they can find. Also, I have only tried on 4 dresses, each of which Al has either said makes me look short (no shit, Sherlock) or makes my face look fat. I told him thanks.

I shove on the last one, which is red and floor length so that I can wear the highest pair of heels I own and be at least 5'9 without people noticing. I wish.

I swing back the curtain.

"Ok, I know I shouldn't be saying this, but whoa." Al grins from his chair, unfolding his arms and sitting up straight.

"Naughty naughty, _cousin _of mine!" I chuckle as I grin back in thanks that at least I don't look (as) short or fat in this one. Or maybe it's just the fact that my cousin wants to get his arse out of here A.S.A.P, but I'll trust him for once.

"Seriously, I'm glad I'm your date or else I'd be worried what Harry Prince was doing with you. Now lets get the hell out of here!" he says, but luckily I'm on the same track as him and as soon as the curtain's closed, I'm more or less out and at the counter straight away. The fifth years are really starting to pee me off.

I barley notice two blonde heads looking at me from outside as we almost run out of the shop, gasping for cold, fresh air.

"So, are you sure we got everything?" Al asks me for about the fifth time today.

"Yes, we have everything. Let me check," I say, pulling out my list that I wrote down, with my tendency to forget things, "Yep. 40 tables, 400 chairs, 20 Christmas trees and 50 holly wreaths."

The cart comes into view and I can't help but laugh. To cheer Al up, I decided to bend the rules and let my artist influences take over.

All stacked together are 20 Christmas trees in various sizes and colours. Each of the 50 holly wreaths were purchased from some hand enchanted stall, and they fire confetti and sing "We wish you a Merry Christmas" whenever someone walks past. Then there's the tables, which are all red and covered in glitter and last but not least, the black chairs which are all different sizes and heights.

Well, being the child and niece of Harry Potter does have its uses when trying to get out of a situation like this one.

"I think that deserves a high five." Al laughs from beside me as I hit his raised palm.

Anything for the family.

"Merlin Rose, you look amazing!" everyone calls as Al and I slowly make our way towards the Great Hall doors. I smile back and tell the same, even though I don't really know who half of them are. Mainly because my fringe, along with the rest of my hair, is so poker straight that it keeps getting into my eyes and I can't see anything.

I grab even tighter on Al's arm as I wobble down the last step of the staircase, being careful not to go break my neck with these bloody 6 inch heels; that Lena's lent me. I guess she felt bad about rejecting Al when I told her he was going with me. She also, along with Lily, attacked me for a full hour with an army of hair products and makeup and whatever other shit my body is currently coated in. My dormitory is going to look and smell like the Madame Puddifoot beauty parlour (yep, Madame Puddifoot's has now expanded. You can guess what kind of a world this is) when I finally manage to return, probably plus a broken neck.

"Want me to take it from here?" a smooth voice comes from my right, and I turn my neck to see none other than Harry Prince, with a foreground of his entirely female fan base behind him. I can feel my stomach churning with feelings of regret and happiness when it dawns on me that I forgot to tell him exactly who I'm with tonight. Whoops.

"Oh, Harry, love, er, I forgot to tell you. I'm with Al tonight. Sorry, you, well you never asked me and Al's date got...sick at the last minute. Sorry." I quickly spout, looking at him in the most innocent way I can – which I must say is hard when your eyelashes feel like they've been hot crimped.

Also the fact that Harry Prince's face right now reminds me exactly of a little puppy or kitten when it got told off for peeing in the wrong place. Why did I ever fancy him again?

"Oh, okay. See you around." He says and heads towards the oak doors, poses for a picture, gets confetti thrown at him my one of my wreaths, then stalks off into the crowd, probably to get pissed.

"And farewell Mister Prince." Al says as we make our way towards the door, every camera turning on us. I'm trying to concentrate on not having a seizure, so just smile as Al pulls me forwards and we emerge out into the hall.

"I must say, Mister Potter, our trees do look rather buff, if I do say so myself." I grin, admiring the red, blue, sliver, gold, green and many other coloured trees receding in each and every part of the great hall. They go particularly well with the ceiling, which is a multicoloured explosion of banners and house flags.

"Why yes Miss Weasley, they are rather sexy. But, as buff as they look now, I'm sure they'll look even better after a couple of Butterbeers." Al smiles back, already tugging me towards the bar. I see Harry Prince look up and move away like we're Voldermort.

The trees still look the same to me, un like my cousin who is currently pissed out of his mind, and telling everyone how gorgeous his cousin looks but not as gorgeous as himself. James has also joined him and right now they are cracking themselves up doing the waltz together.

You can imagine how two drunken Potter brothers look and act whilst doing the waltz. They're lucky the people watching them are pissed out of their minds, or they'd have a lot to answer to tomorrow morning.

I haven't seen Lily all night. I suspect she'll be one of the few sober people around, probably eating the face off her chosen man in one of the bushes outside. I know, classy. I might as well go and save her. I make sure I pull of my stupid stilettos before I go anywhere. Not a good idea to go walking around in those at this time of night. With a party that's been organized by James, I dread to think what kind of a state the upper section of Hogwarts has gotten themselves into, and to think its only 9 o clock; Merlin.

Apart from when I do go searching for Lily, she finds me first.

Her face is the Weasley red, contrasting against her black sequinned dress. I also notice the camera around her neck and wonder if she's trying to make another one of her fashion statements.

"Lily, I've..."

"Rose, oh my gosh; come with me right now!" she hisses as she drags me by the hand round to some secluded spot with a load of couples not so successfully hidden in the hedges.

"Nice to talk to you too!" I say back, but only in time for her to flip her fiery hair over her shoulder and hisses again.

"Shut up!"

I guess that's probably the best thing to do if Lily Potter tells you to. So I do.

"Look, over there." She whispers, crouching down to the floor making me feel like James Bond. Now all we need is a theme tune.

I follow her finger to find some couple, surprise, knowing each others faces off. Cue abrupt halt to that amazingly suave theme tune.

"And?" I ask. "What, is it one of your boyfriends cheating on you?"

"Look closer." She whispers again, pulling up her camera and I hear the snapping of multiple images being taken all at once. The flash is masked by the strobe lights pummelling their way out of the windows around us.

"Oh shit." I whisper back. Because, in fact, it's not one of Lily's posy boyfriends making out with someone else in a bush. It's _**my**_ boyfriend making out with _**Brittany Gomshaw**_ in a bush.

"What a fucking bag of balls!" I hiss in anger. Okay, so yeah, now I have a perfectly okay reason to stop going out with Harry Prince. But c'mon, did he have to go and choose someone as pathetic as that? I want to, I'm not to sure actually,

Carve his eyes out with a spoon. He could have just dumped me instead of doing this. Okay, so I haven't been the best girlfriend, have I, but this, it's immoral. Nobody, except if your name is Malfoy, goes around snogging Brittany Gomshaw.

No one, with a capital N.

He's managed to piss me off more than Hugo on a bad day. Now that's a big achievement.

"You've seen enough." Lily says, jumping up and hauling me off the ground with her. She's got a smile on her face.

I start to walk away and my mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts, but the main one being, why the hell did he cheat on me with _**Brittany Gomshaw**_? What a fucking dick.

"Don't you worry Rose; he'll get what's coming to him." Lily laughs as she pats the camera strung around her neck. Then it dawns on me. I always forget that Lily is the editor-in-chief of the Hogwarts Gazette. She may be a total ditz head sometimes, but she sure has got brains.

"Are you serious?" I cry with a wicked smile re stung back onto my face.

"We're absolutely serious about stirring a bit of gossip down at the Gazette Rose! Now, I need a few quotes." She laughs as, once again we enter the thumping great hall and I am dragged through a sea of sweaty, alcohol fuelled bodies dancing away to some mad tune. I hang onto my stilettos until we finally break out into the entrance hall.

I spy Dominique trotting down towards the Slytherin dungeons, but barley register it as my head reels with one word.

Revenge.

"Just tell me Lily, why all this for me?" I laugh as we head in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

"Anything for the family." She replies.


	19. Chapter 18 Desire With A Touch Of Disgus

**To everyone of you amazing people who has reviewed, subscribed or anything else, this one's for you!**  
**I am so so so sorry this has taken so long! EXAMS!**  
**Feels great to be back on FanFiction**

**x **

* * *

Chapter 18 – Desire With a Touch of Disgusting

"...And for you, Grift and Handman, that'll be 50 lanterns, 5 ice sculptures and as many mistletoe hangings as you can find. All enchanted." The oldest Potter, who just so happens to be head boy, barks to some predisposed 5th years that smile at him and nod their heads like he's a god. The head girl looks really pissed off, and a smirk winds its way onto my face.

Then the voice I absolutely do not want to hear perks up from behind me. It's the first time she's properly talked to me since our little show in detention and her leaving me to clear up the shit in potions.

"And as for you Mr Malfoy, I suspect you will require 20 contraception potions, 8 pairs of underwear, 5 bottles of cologne and I mustn't forget the 50 tonnes of ego that need to be delivered to your dormitory." Rose Weasley mutters, arms crossed per usual in defence.

What I really want to say is so disgusting I'm not even going to say it out loud; followed by what a lazy cow she is and how she really needs to keep her mouth shut. But, you know, seeing as I am loosing my touch, all I manage is:

"Opposed to the 101 beauty spells to your dormitory, Weasley."I spit, knowing full well that was _**the**_ shittest comeback I have ever produced.

"Hey, how did you know I was getting you that for Christmas; special connection or something...perhaps? Or not. Besides, I'll make sure I deliver everything personally." She grins back at me as my fellow prefect pulls me forward to get our "_to buy"_ list for this arsetard Christmas Ball. I mean, what is the point? Apart from getting off with someone you won't even remember in the morning because you were too pissed to even walk straight; exactly, nothing.

"Hyperion Malfoy, Scorpius, Bella Yardley, Elise." Potter scathes at us as the head girl ticks us off her list. I have to refrain from vomiting at the use of my full name, even if it is backwards.

"Sirius Potter, James." I scathe back under my breath. Elise mutters something disgusting, but I don't quite catch it.

"Malfoy and Yardley... Okay, enough tree decorations for 20 Christmas trees, speakers and, eh, decorations for the ceiling." The head girl says, sounding eager to get her bit in. The voice sounds slightly familiar, but from experience, it's best not to ponder on these sorts of things.

"Cheers." I snort, walking away as I pull my robes tighter towards my chest, my body greeted by frosty December air.

"So, how's this going to work then?" Elise questions as we're pointed towards a carriage with a cart on the back for all the junk we're supposed to find.

"How do you mean?" I question. I pray she's not planning a full frontal attack on me in the carriage or something. Sex, in a carriage, on the way to Hogsmeade is not in the slightest, something I take pride participating in. I hope I never fall that low anyhow.

"Well, we do this together..." Elise trails of as she stumbles into the carriage, and I catch one of her flailing arms to steady her before she breaks her arse. I watch as her face tinges pink and maybe she _**is **_planning to have sex with me in a carriage on the way to Hogsmeade. Pass me a bucket.

"Okay?" I question, again.

"Mhm." She mumbles as she slides down onto the bench.

"So, or..." I pick up; snapping the door shut and the carriage starts to slowly pull itself out of Hogwarts.

"Or we can split it half and half. You go and get, say; the ceiling stuff and I'll get the rest, if you want." Elise finally finishes up. That's why everyone in Gryffindor calls me an arse I guess; unlike them, people offer to do all the work for me.

I'm glad for once that a girl had chosen a sensible way to spend the day with me; as far away as possible without trying to get me into their pants every 10 minutes.

"Yeah, number two sounds good." I drawl back, leaning my head on the side of the carriage and watch the rolling landscape outside; a rock here, a tree there.

"So, are you going with Brittany tomorrow then?" Elise asks, starting to tire me with all these questions. There are better ways to be spending my life, like practising for the Slytherin/Gryffindor match next week instead of racing around, fulfilling other people's requirements because they can't be arsed to get off their own backsides.

Then I remember how I've "forgotten" to ask Brittany to the ball. Well, why would I anyway?

"Oh, I forgot to tell her, I have some people coming tomorrow, as in to the ball. I can't go with her, my father says it's my priority to, well, be with _**them**_." I answer with a rounding up tone. Obviously that is yet again another great fat lie. But I'm sure I'll find someone worthy to "_be with_".

"Oh, uh-hu, sure." She agrees, and I catch her nodding her head out of the corner of my eye. The journey continues on like this, until eventually the landscape displayed in the window stopped moving, settling on the picture of Hogsmeade high street, with stout wizards and witches scuffling around, and a drabble of prefects out Christmas Ball shopping. I open the door, and then climb out of the carriage after Elise with the familiar sway of the wind lulling around my face. Freedom feels nice.

"So, uh, here's your money. I'll meet you at Madame Malkin's, 3.30? I need to pick up my dress." Elise says, handing over a bag of what feels like galleons as she does so.

"Alright, see you later." I say back, giving her the famous Malfoy smile as I turn to face the high street. Great, let's go balloon shopping!

Seriously, I would rather have a pleasant conversation with Rose Weasley than do this.

Or maybe that is a little bit extreme.

But, honestly, I think I will die if I stay here any longer. There's about 25 little kids, flying around on enchanted balloon brooms and knocking each other to the ground (or knocking each other out) and a crazy old lady who owns the shop trying to sell me a 100 balloons with Harry Potter's face on them. Don't think I'd ever be forgiven if I bought those.

No, most definitely not.

"No thanks, I just want 2000 spell inflated balloons, red, blue, green and yellow, that's all." I say through gritted teeth as a loud band erupts in my ear and a little kid runs away, cackling his head off. I let out an aggravated groan, taking off the balloon crown on my head. Might I say, it looks exactly like a giant inflated condom, so you can bloody well imagine what the Great Hall is going to look like when I'm finished with it!

A great big, multicoloured… yeah, I won't go there.

"Are you sure that's all dear?" she smiles at me, revealing a toothless set of gums. Merlin, what's she been up to?

Hehe

"Yes, I'm sure. Here you go, and there's a tip there." I huff, handing here over the money in exchange for a bag emblazoned with _Berta's Bashing Balloons,_ nice, not. I then turn on my heels and dash out of the shop as fast as I can into he fresh air. If only Brittany Gomshaw could see me now, then she'd leave me alone.

With a flick of my wand, that dire bag of balloons flies off to wherever the carriage is, along with my lovely ceiling decorations (all multicoloured, because seriously, who looks at the ceiling?) Then, I stride off to find Elise, standing outside gawping at Madam Malkins' window.

"What's up is Professor Slughorn dancing around naked or something?" I smirk as I walk up to her, hands in pockets.

"Look at that little bitch, fucking Princess Rose Weasley" Elise cried at the window and I turn my head to see what the hell she's ranting about. There's a horde of girls in the year below, parading around with their tits basically hanging out of their dresses.

Why do girls think that's attractive?

And then there's Albus Potter, grinning like he's just finally grown a pair of balls. Oh Merlin, he's really grinning. What a man whore.

But then I realise, he's not grinning at the booby girls. He's grinning at his cousin, Rose bloody Weasley, twirling around in a red dress. He is so sick minded. I bet he's thinking he wants to shag his cousin right now.

But I can completely see why, because I would (shag Weasley, not my cousin). She looks fucking amazing, and then I realise I'm gawping, and hope her, Potter or Elise hasn't seen me.

"What do you want to shag her or something?" I laugh at Elise, eventually tearing my eyes off Weasley and back to the bleak midday ambience of Hogsmeade High Street.

"No she's fucking trying on my dress!" Elise cries, eyes wide, looking at me like I should do something.

Oh hell, no bitch. What does she expect me to do, go in there and tear the dress of Weasley? Well that's probably where I was going in my mind, but no way am I going in there just to get some dress back. She's standing outside a shop filled with enough clothes to dress every single tree in the Forbidden Forest.

"Did you reserve it?" I query, asking the only question I can muster in this state. I see the pair inside the shop coming towards the door, and quickly snap back round to the shop window, only to find about 5 pairs of boobs on the other side of the glass.

Great, now all the sluts have found me.

I hear Elise huff an "I guess not." in my direction. Point proven.

"I'll see you at the carriage." I drawl, hastily turning away from the shop window. This day was only bound to get worse.

From the word go, all I want to do is get pissed. And I mean seriously pissed. After my little encounter with the mirror of fucking Erised, not to mention the little stint in Hogsmeade today, all I've wanted to do is get rid of that image and chuck it in the bin.

Except I can't, which is why I want to get pissed.

I sit down on some stupidly low black chair, nearly falling off it, since my vision's slightly hazy around the edges. I'm going to put that down to the numerous Firewhiskey shots and butterbeers already crippling my liver.

"You are such a fucking arsehole!" a familiar candy coated voice sparks up from beside me. I rub my temples as an all to common image of a nearly naked Brittany Gomshaw comes into view. She more or less slams her body into the chair opposite me, which seems about a foot higher up that mine. Maybe I really have drunk too much this time.

"What the hell have I done now?" I question, bored already. She's really starting to give me a headache.

"You fucking took that shitty slag, Elise, to Hogsmeade! You are such a whore Scorpius." She cries, but loud enough to defeat the deafening drone of the music system, or shouts of the upper three years of Hogwarts.

"Yeah, I'm a whore." I reply casually with closed eyes. _Says her_ I think silently in my head.

"Merlin Scorpius, I fucking hate you! We're so over." Brittany screams once more, slapping me round the face, but I don't give a shit because she's finally leaving me alone. My life can only go up from here!

"We're we even together?" I laugh after here, resting my head in my hand, the fuzz of the surrounding room suddenly looking very inviting as the outline of a blonde girl comes and takes Brittany's space.

"Oh Merlin, Scorpius, I just saw that, are you all right?" comes her enchanting voice, sounding equally as drunk as myself. I guess there's nothing better to do than to play along. I know exactly what she's trying to do.

"Yeah, babe, I'm fine. What about you, you look rather lonely." I smirk.

"Well, you see I am. I was wondering if you could look after me, I'm ever so lonely." The mystery girls giggles back, her facial expression Un-readable through the haze covering my eyes.

"I guess I could. Care to follow me?" I smile, rising slowly, offering her one of my arms as I grab the table unsteadily with the other. She clutches on, and together we both stumble blindly out of the hall and down towards the dungeons. Just hope I don't accidentally wake up ad realise there's a Weasley in my bed or something tomorrow.

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	20. Chapter 19 How To Break A Heart

**OMG I AM SO UNBELIEVABLY SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING!**  
**I love you and adore you if you still bother to read this.**  
**I thought I'd have heaps of time to finish this seeing as it's the holidays, turns out I've been away and the holidays are almost over!**  
**So, as an apology, I will stay up all night and finish chapter 20**

**~MorgeeLove~**

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Chapter 19 – How to Break a Heart

It's actually surreal how quickly your feelings for someone else can be crushed and shoved underneath the doormat, in a number of minutes.

Especially when it comes to family.

Okay, so I know what Scorpius Malfoy does. I know how he breaks girl's hearts as often as he breathes yet they still queue up to get their fill. I know how I used to be one of those thick girls, who, until now, used to dream about him, think about kissing him and bollocks.

But now, with a shivering wreck of the 17 year old Dominique Weasley curled up next to me, balling her eyes out in the Room of Requirement about that particular guy, I find it exceptionally hard to believe that I did. In fact, it scares the crap out of me.

"So let me get this straight," Lily, from the other side of Dominique, starts up, while I grab another pile of tissues and hold them out for my older cousin. Already, I can tell both Dominique and I want Lily to shut the hell up. "So, as you were coming down to the ball, Ralph broke up with you before you managed to get there and told you,"

"Lily, lets not go into what he said, shall we?" I snap, holding Dominique tighter as she cries harder. Lord knows why us humans created relationships; all they do is hurt you.

"Sure, so, moving on, he was basically seeing someone else behind your back. Then, you decided to go to the ball anyways, get pissed until you couldn't walk straight then get off with some random person, who you most definitely did not realise was whom he is until you woke up and…"Lily carries on.

"Well how in the fuck was I supposed to know, whilst I, as you so kindly put it, got pissed until I couldn't walk straight then got off with some random person? How the fuck was I supposed to know that random person was Scorpius fucking bag of boobs Malfoy?" she cries, before bursting into hysterics and returning to my shoulder, where she has already created a nice puddle of tears.

I honestly feel awful for her. I mean, she should know better; being part Veela makes it about a million times easier to get guys, especially when they're drunk. But to get off with Malfoy, I honestly dread to think.

He's such a sleazy man whore, or as Dom says, A Fucking bag of boobs.

"And he started cursing and swearing, then started blaming you, calling you a slag etc.," Lily counts off on her fingers whilst Dom burrows her head further into the crook of my neck and I roll my eyes. Lily is so uncaring about relationships, simply because she has only dumped her boyfriends, not the other way round, "then got all weepy and annoyed about how he was going to regret this forever, then started getting all mad, then finally kicked you out of his dorm, and left you to get dressed and walk through Slytherin common room in humiliation." Lily finishes, then plops down on the red sofa, shakes her head in disbelief and looks into the fire.

Oh fucking brilliant. I can tell she's planning something.

"Oh, Rose what about you though? Al told me what happened in Divination with Harry. He said you hated him anyways." Dom says sadly, slowly drawing up from my hug and into the centre of the sofa and looks at me. I pick up the Hogwarts Gazette from the coffee table and stare at the front page.

I'm trying to look as if I give shit about my boyfriend getting caught eating Hogwart's number one whores face off. It's fucking hard.

The only thing I'm bloody shitting myself over is the quidditch match tomorrow, which we have been practising for up until the ball, and the shitty interviews etc. that I'm going to have to do about my twat boyfriend cheating on me.

Oh Merlin.

"I'm fine, Dom. He was a pig, and yes I did hate him, but only on relationship terms." I laugh back as she hugs me, whilst I try to avoid the snotty tissue in her hand. She lets go and I scan through Lily's article, which has made the Hogwarts Gazette sell out twice today. My eyes come to rest on the picture of me, next to Malfoy's, with the caption _what's next for these two Hogwarts hotties_? I point to Malfoy's picture and motion to Dom.

"At least he got what was coming to him." I smile. She nods, but looks unsatisfied.

"Yeah, but it's barely enough." She says.

"Well, whatever it takes, I'll do anything for you to help you get your revenge!" I chuckle, folding the newspaper into my pocket.

"_**Anything**_?" Lily perks up from the other side of Dom, eyebrows raised and sly smile on her face.

"Not including streaking or anything of that nature. I'm still a prefect don't forget." I reply, raising my own eyebrows at my younger cousin. Dom giggles from the middle of us.

"Prefect-shmefect Rose, you're a Gryffindor. Grow some balls!" Lily laughs along with Dom. Oh fuck. Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck.

"Lily," I say slowly, looking her in the eye, "What are you planning?" I question, getting increasingly worried with every second that past. Lily only tells me to grow some balls when she's daring me to do something I absolutely refuse to do. But, I always end up doing it anyhow, but only out of self-pride.

"Well, Rose, I shall let you in on the secret, if you would be ever so kind to go and find the advanced spells volume 3 from my dorm." Lily smiled coyly as I furrow my brows at her.

"Why in Me-" I start, but not before being interrupted.

"You'll see, you'll see. Dom and I just need to have a chat first." Lily laughs and I get up, placing my hands on my hips. I wouldn't normally take any shit from Lily, and she certainly could have accioed the book rather easily. But knowing her, she's probably planned this out since we first arrived, and no doubt she's got some inhumane method of forcing me to go fetch her crappy spell book.

Oh, and plus, I really, really need a wee. Dom hasn't let us leave the room since 11 o'clock this morning.

Might I add, it's now quarter past three.

"Fine. But only because I need to piss." I huff as I walk out of the door.

"One shitty Spells book for Lily Potter." I sing sarcastically as I chuck the red leather bound monster of a book to Lily. She catches it with a hover spell and I look up, only to find one of the most intimidating scenes I have ever seen in my life before me.

"What the fuck is this?" I cry, my eyes widening at the ghastly memorabilia exhibited around the Room of Requirement, with my cousins standing proud in the middle like two sick circus ringleaders conducting their best act.

So, around me is a lovely collection of, I assume, blackmail.

Yes, you heard, my own cousins are going to blackmail me into doing something, I expect, very very very very terrible using my baby photos, diary from when I was 13 and notes that Lily has obviously stolen from underneath my bed.

Twat. How the fuck did she manage to get hold of those?

"Rose. This is the material that is going to increase Dom and mine's bank account by a good couple million galleons and the wizarding worlds magazines and newspaper revenue if you don't submit to our, how do I put it Dom? Proposal?" Lily spurts with slyness and a smirk that could almost rival Malfoy.

"I prefer dare. But one that has detrimental consequences if left unfulfilled." Dom says smugly, crossing her arms and tilting her upwards in defiance. Surprising how quickly my family return to their normal state of sanity when they're plotting things against other people?

"And are you going to let me in on this almighty demand, or am I going to have to guess myself?" I laugh dryly, sort of pissing myself even though I've just been to the loo.

"We," Lily says poignantly,

"Dare," Dom adds,

"You,"

"To,"

"Go,"

"Out,"

"With,"

"Malfoy,"

"Then,"

"Crush his effing heart." They both cry.

"Holy effing fuck, no!" I instantly cry back. What the fuck? Me go out with Malfoy; that's like… like the giant squid going out with a unicorn!

"Why not?" Lily replies, seemingly unfased by my outburst.

"Lily, why in Merlins name would I go out with someone I don't even like! Have you even consolidated the fact that he hates my gutts?" and shout, and my brain feels like it's going to explode any minute.

"Well, I seem to recall you went out with Harry Prince for, well, I can't remember how long, but ages. How would you like the wizarding world to know you messed up Rose Weasley? Plus, Malfoy doesn't fancy you my arse. If looks could account for thoughts, he would have shagged you more than 500 times over already!" Dom steps in, same evil grin on her face. Merlin, why are they so set on taking Malfoy down; and taking me down as well?

I replay Dom's last two sentences and my damned Weasley blush starts to creep up my neck. Plus, Harry Prince was no mistake.

"And? Even if Malfoy did fancy me, you wouldn't have the heart to betray me like that, would you?" I ask, my eyes wide with fear. But then again, why am I fearful? I already know the answer.

"Of course I would." Dom and Lily say, before turning to each other and giggling. Lily nods to her, then flicks open the humongous book I just lugged down about ten flights of stairs for her. Dom turns to look at me, dangerous glint on her eye.

"Rose, the way you're going on, anyone would think you fancy Malfoy yourself!" Dom laughs almost falsely, flicking some dirt off of her fingernails whilst Lily chuckles to herself and emits an agreeing "mhm." My way, then starts muttering under her breath, eyes fixated on the book.

Do doubt she forgot another one of her tests.

Anyhow, back to the point, they must be fucking joking. There is no way on Merlin's arse that I would go out with that git. So what if I fancy him, just, like, a _**tiny**_ bit?

"I do not

"Promise?" Dom asks lightly, looking me straight in the eye. Hopefully she doesn't find the truth. If that gets out, I've lost more than a secret; I've lost my life. I mean, who would forgive me if I revealed I secretly fancied a Malfoy, especially one that I wasn't goin out with that probably had a list of ways to kill rose Weasley taked to his wall.

Yeah, the shame in genuinely fancying a Mafoy and letting it out into the open is proably the worst way to rid myself of everything I have.

"I promise." I say slowly, but of course you and I both know that's a load of bollocks. I just hope it's believable bollocks.

"So, do you, Rose Weasley, therefore promise to go out with Scorpius Malfoy, for us, Dominique Weasley and Lily Potter?" Dom says seriously, stretching out her hand as she does so.

Bloody hell; are they f'ing obsessed with him now too? Blimey.

"Okay, okay, I bloody promise!" I cry, seizing Dom's outstretched palm with unnatural anger.

And then I realise I have probably just made the biggest fucking mistake of my whole entire life.

"YOU LITTLE SHITS!" I cry as the illustrious smoke entwines Dom's hand and mine. How could _**I **_be so damn stupid?

"My my my," Lily strikes up from her spell book, malicious grin even wider across her too-perfect face, "Who would have guessed that Rose Weasley would fall for something as simple as a promise spell?"

I seize my hand from Dom's clasp as soon as the smoke and sparks clear from the air, the warm sensation travelling through my body and settling down into my chest.

Fucking promise spell.

_The promise spell, one of the simplest yet most effective spells known to the Wizarding World. Often quoted as the little sister to the Unbreakable Vow, the promise spell holds the receiver to their pledge until completion. If the promise is left uncompleted, the receiver risks loosing both their family and everything to do with the set promise. Note; this spell is not to be taken lightly._

Yeah, obviously Lily had not taken heed of the "do not take lightly" when she learnt this, I'm assuming, from one of her 7th year boyfriends, seeing as Hogwarts is only allowed to teach the spell to students in that year.

For a good reason!

Fuck.

"Congratulations on ruining my life." I spit bluntly in their faces, before turning on my heel and storming out of the Room of Requirement, to the tune of giggles and high fives from behind me.

I figured that was better than murdering both my cousins and loosing my family anways.


	21. Chapter 20 The Weasley Curse

**This chapter is probably a little unusual for the sake of Scorpius's point of view.**

**It's just came out like this, so I'll leave it :)**

**Enjoy**

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Chapter 20 – The Weasley Curse

Okay, so how the bloody hell was I supposed to know after 4 Firewhiskeys and 6 Butterbeers that it was Dominique Weasley in my bed? How on this bloody earth? Tell me, please. I am dead meat I tell you, dead meat.

It wouldn't be so bad, apart from that bloody bitch has sent it flying all around the entire fucking school. I mean, I walk into the bloody common room, and there's guys coming up to me, clapping me round the back and telling me I'm the luckiest guy in the school, or asking how I managed to pull another girl into my bed so quickly after I'd broken up with Brittany.

I mean, for fucks sake. How sex-orientated can the entire male body of Slytherin get?

What's worse, is that why does every fucking body think I was going out with that skank-bag?

Anyways, you're probably thinking, whoa Scorpius, that time of the month? Or, haven't you slept with the whole of Hogwarts, so what's the biggie?

Well, I'll tell you, and I'm not sure you'll like it.

First of all, well, lets start with the obvious. Dominique _**Weasley**_. Yeah, notice the stress on the Weasley part. So, obviously, as you all know, Weasleys and Malfoy's don't mix. We're like oil and water, can't mix, never have, never will.

And sorry to be prejudiced, but Rose Weasley was the one that spoke to me like I was a Dementor the minute I entered Hogwarts. So, that's one point.

Number two, another Weasley related uh-oh. When they come for me, I'm fucked. Honestly and truly, and that's the first time I've ever admitted that I'm unquestionably doomed about anything.

But think about it, the ratio of Malfoy's to Weasleys _**and**_ Potters is quite literally 100,000 to 5. I sincerely doubt grandfather will even put a second thought against helping me, father most likely the same, and my mother and grandmother, well Merlin knows.

So that's actually 1 Malfoy versus the entire Weasley clan. Exactly, I'm fucked.

Anyhow, back to the bit that's about to bring my whole image of "SexGod" crashing spectacularly to the ground.

Dominique Weasley, wait for it, is actually, oh for fucks sake.

I, Scorpius Malfoy, have only slept with one other girl besides Dominique. There, I said it!

I know, laugh at me.

The truth is, when I was fourteen, some 6th year and I were supposedly "seeing" each other. I suppose I better not repeat her name for legal purposes, eh. Well, one thing lead to another, and before I knew it, she'd got me drunk, I'd got her into my bed, and, well, the rest, as they say, is history.

The next day, she told me we were "over" and she vowed not to tell anyone. Surprisingly word got around that I was in-experienced, etc. etc. and that's when the whole "I'm Scorpius Malfoy and all these girls have been in my bed" façade started up, for the sake of, what I told myself, my reputation.

Of course, I was technically telling the truth. They had all been in my _**bed**_; they just hadn't been in my pants. I knocked them out with a "contraception potion" before any of that happened, and they left in the morning, guessing they'd slept with me and, making up things about me and what I'm like in bedroom.

I guess because they're girls and they like the attention.

So cutting all the soppy bull crap, that's my life!

No, but seriously, I told myself the next time I slept with a girl, it would be either because for some magical reason I was in love with her or, well, that's probably the only reason.

And look what clever Scorpius Malfoy has done this time. Slept with his arch nemesis's cousin.

Congratulations Mr Malfoy.

I suppose I better explain how I managed to sleep with her and what happened after I realised.

So, last night, yep, I got plastered, I can remember that much on account of the stinking headache that was reverberating all the way from the middle of my eyes, right down to my cheekbones. Luckily, I'm sort of okay with dealing with mega hangovers, so I just about managed to draw the curtains from around my bed.

The guys in my dorm made a stash of hangover potions, which I hid somewhere underneath my bed, the most fuck-stupid place to put a _**hangover**_ potion of all things. So, there I was, pulling of my sheets and trying to stand up.

You guessed. I was completely exposed. No boxers, no nothing. So that was kind of a big clue on my behalf.

Being naked, that is.

So, trying not to wake the then unknown girl in my bed, I clambered into my old underwear and trousers from the night before. But, just my luck, what should roll out of my trousers as soon as I pick them up?

An empty heart shaped bottle with the word _Protection_ inscribed on it. And it definitely wasn't mine. That's when the night before came rushing back to me, so I managed, from somewhere, to find a hangover potion, sober up quicker than I ever have before, and yelled so loud, I'm surprised it didn't pierce the silencing charms protecting my dorm mates beds.

Then the blonde head of Dominique Weasley turned and looked at me, looking just as perplexed as myself.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" was the first phrase that popped into my head. Accompanied by the fact that the whole Weasley family was going to kill me, and that I had to spend practically the rest of the school year with this girls cousin, who was definitely going to murder me, again, brutally.

"What?" she blinked at me, eyes wide. I'm not so sure whether she meant what as in, _what am I doing here_, or _what do you mean_.

Either way.

"DID YOU NOT HERE ME? I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!" I shouted again, this time, grabbing her clothes off the floor and tossing them at her.

"Oh my God." She whispered, shaking her head to herself then clutched her head in her hands.

By that time, I just wanted her out of my fucking sight, before I threw up on her or started showing remorse towards her; towards a Weasley.

I started pacing around like a mad man before finally crying,

"Will you just get the fuck dressed already and bloody GET OUT?"

Then, she pulled on her clothes (with me focusing hard on her face) and snapped completely as she jumped off the bed.

"Scorpius Malfoy, you are a fucking piece of shit, you know that!" Dominique screamed, turning on her heel and stalked now thankfully fully clothed from the dorm.

I followed her down the narrow passageway leading straight to the fucking common room.

"Well, this isn't just my fault you know!" I sneered back, trying to make that sound real in my head. I mean, all I was thinking was have I honestly just _**had sex **_with the Dominique Weasley?

_Yes Malfoy, you have._

Then, Merlin help me, we walked straight into the common room and the bitch stood right in the middle of everyone and yelled at the top of her bloody voice, "Yes, I know, it's all _**my**_ fault, isn't it? You know, _**you're**_ going to be in _**so**_ much shit tomorrow, and I'll make sure of that!"

Then, her hair, that's so blonde it could seriously rival mine, was out of sight. It was then I realised I still had the _Protection_ potion bottle in my hand, which I proceeded to hurl at the recently closed wall.

"Fucking Weasley!" I cried, before looking around.

So, what could I have expected after that little spectacle?

All the girls staring at my half naked body and all the guys looking at me with gigantic smirk on their faces. Then, being the wimp I am, I turned on my heel and stalked back to my dorm.

Of course it was inevitable that my dorm mates would find out, and I got a nice little heart to heart (or man to man as he likes to call it) from Greg. Which included him showing me this mornings Hogwarts gazette.

"Jeez Scorp, that's one way to overreact. Besides, well done and most definitely good luck!" he smirked to me on the way to quidditch practise.

"Why in hells name would you be giving me your good luck?" I huffed moodily, giving the floor death glares to save my best friend.

"Mate, you've slept with a Weasley. Pretty soon, they'll all be out for you. You've got the Weasley curse Malfoy, just watch out." He replied with not a hint of fucking sarcasm in his voice, for once.

"Well, fuck me." I grunted.

"Yep, that's exactly what they'll do." Greg laughed back.

Now, I'm trying to clear my head in the Slytherin changing rooms after preparing for the match tomorrow against, guess who, Gryffindor, _**yey**_. I better write my good-bye letters tonight.

Fucking _Weasley curse_.

Lord, hallelujah.


	22. Chapter 21 It's Me OnTop

**1. Though I wish I had, I did not create Harry Potter**

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**~MorgeeLove~**

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Chapter 21 – It's Me On-top

"_Go go Gryffindor_." Rings through my head as I hop from one foot to the other, waiting for the damn doors to open so I can just get the hell out of here and kick Scorpius Malfoy's (and Slytherin's) arses.

"Ready team?" James yells from in front of us, winking in my direction.

"Ready captain!" I cry along with the rest of the quidditch "troop" as we like to call ourselves. You guessed it as well, my whole family knows about the entire ordeal involving Malfoy.

Lily told them to make sure they don't "ruin my chances" of going out with Malfoy.

Like my chances aren't fucked already.

Luckily it's just Al, James, Hugo and I representing our family on behalf of Gryffindor. Lily occasionally steps in if someone's injured, but she prefers taking photos in all honesty. Fred and Roxanne are more often than not plotting how to convert the quidditch pitch into a swamp, the rest of the family are thankfully in different houses.

I feel Al's burly elbow push into my ribs as he whispers "Remember what you promised." with a conceited grin on his face. Then, the doors finally open, the crowd's cheers filling me with fortitude, and I save my scowl for Al until later.

I'm not entirely sure how beating Malfoy _**and**_ trying to get him to ask me out is going to work, but, I better try.

I dread to think what'll happen if I don't, I think, as I kick of the ground and soar up into the air. The freezing air bites at my nose and my fingers, but I ignore it momentarily. Finally, for a few minutes I can feel free.

So naturally, the crowd absolutely pissed on Slytherin, especially Malfoy, as soon as their Emerald robes came strutting into view.

Who can blame them, honestly?

It's most likely due to Dom's whole kiss and tell about Malfoy in _**all **_of the papers this morning.

I was smiling for a while, until I saw bloody Lily and Dom motioning for me to do something, I guess, to "interest" Malfoy. And no doubt so they can get a couple of photos for the _Hogwarts Gazette_, then sell them to _The Daily Prophet_, and, well, you know the rest.

But, thankfully, me hovering in morally deplorable positions (well, in my eyes they are) in front of Hogwarts's number 1 Man-Whore does, reprehensibly, have its perks.

First of all, it's just downright hilarious to see his face contort into an expression of pure confusion whenever I wink at him.

Second of all, most of Malfoy's attention seems to be on my boobs, therefore distracting him from finding the snitch. And leaving me with a better opportunity of catching it, because I'll give him some credit for being fucking fast when it comes to Quidditch.

_**Obviously**_ boobs are a bigger priority.

Furthermore, the best part is that the Slytherin team seemed to have also noticed me cavorting about; bum stuck out a modest further than usual. Trust me, my arse is rather big; it's not hard to miss.

So, basically, me whoring around has left Gryffindor 140 points up and me with an immense smirk on my face.

I just have to catch the snitch now.

Gazing down below me, oh look, someone's looking at me. Then completely misses Al grabbing the quaffle from his clutches and swoop in to score his 3rd consecutive goal of the match.

The crowd erupts into a mass off cheers and "Hell yeahs" whilst Al flys around in victory, my own face cracking into an almighty grin.

But it falters when a fluttering golden ball swoops past my mane of curls, and I'm all tunnel vision. Until the fluttering green STD god comes swooping in next to me.

_**When the bloody hell did he get this fast?**_

"Having fun with me Weasley?" he half yells as we hurtle in tandem towards the snitch, which I much say is being a bitch today. I mean seriously, does it have to go so close peoples heads?

"Probably not as much fun as you had with my cousin." I sneer back, making sure I keep my eye on the prize.

Malfoy however, is not, as I see him fall back slightly, this time obviously not due to my arse.

To distract myself further, I try to plaster a smirk worthy of Malfoy onto my face; all the while my hand is stretching further out towards the snitch. The bitter air reverberates all the way down my arm as I do so. It's enlivening, the precise reason why I play quidditch.

Oh, and to beat archenemies arses, of course!

"That was a mistake." Malfoy says, barely audible, but he said it.

I swear, I think…

Besides, I'm sure it's a ploy to put me off as his hands catching up with mine pretty fast. Well, it's not like he can flash me his tits.

But what doe he fucking _**mean**__, it was a mistake_?

What, it was a mistake sleeping with my cousin? Or it was a mistake sleeping with her, or he didn't actually sleep with her? Maybe he's trying to imply that's she's, ehem, bad in bed? Can he honestly insult my family any more?

Jeez!

I can feel all of my provocation boiling into another Weasley flush on my face, pushing me faster, pushing me forwards. The pair of us pursue the snitch as it hurtles towards to the ground, and now's my chance.

Malfoy's quick and seemingly skillful, but he has no control over that skill at top speed.

Unlike myself (yeah Rose, go ahead and flatter yourself)

My fingertips meet the winged ball so quickly, and the immediate high I always get from winning a game flushes through my body.

That is, until a spilt second later, another gloved hand clamps over mine just as I forget where I'm heading. Then Mr. Mistake-Malfoy and I smash face first into the fucking grass.

Ahh, does anyone feel a déjà-vu coming on?

Only this time, I'm the one that's on top of him.

"If this is how you plan on getting me into bed, it's not going to work." I whisper inconspicuously in his ear, making sure to keep the snitch in a tight fist.

If Uncle Harry gives you advice, you take it.

"Weasley's don't whore around." I smirk in his face. But before he manages some witty comeback, his eyes glaze over, and he's out like a light.

So, what do I do to celebrate knocking out my should be boyfriend?

By throwing my fist in the air and shouting,

"I got him Gryffindor!"

_**Obviously**_, I'm referring to the snitch.

Okay, so now I'm kind of pissed. I happen to be missing the Gryffindor celebration party after I managed to collapse on myself, seconds after our spectacular victory.

Turns out I broke my foot, which was just typical of me. I on no account break bones in quidditch, or ever, with the exception of when I happen to get caught up around Malfoy.

What a charmer he is.

Besides, Lily lectured me profoundly whilst I was waiting around like a useless rag in the hospital wing. On shit such as well done, look at this picture (me seemingly straddling Malfoy after we crash landed), he's such a prick, stay here and get under his skin.

Actually, I still am waiting around like a useless rag, due to my lovely cousin.

So, she's banished me to this fucking glacial ward whilst they all party so I can be there for when the shit head I knocked out wakes up.

We've told Madame Weaver that I need to stay to apologize (note the sarcasm) to "that poor dear, Scorpius". More like give him a piece of my mind, and find out exactly what "_It was a mistake._" means.

Of course, when Al and Louis came to visit, they had a couple of opinions to voice over this.

Those opinions primarily consisted of shit, fuck, fucking, dick, dickhead and so on. They have only recently left after me protesting for a prolonged amount of time.

Uh-oh.

The devil hath waketh.


	23. Chapter 22 Don't Hit Your Head

Chapter 22 – Don't Hit Your Head

Well, all I can fucking remember is the Weasley hag landing boobs first on top of me, before whispering something I can't recall in my ear, and her colossal smirk after she pulled away.

Which is all right, because that's the point that I passed out. Probably due to the fact I had just fallen right off of my broom like an absolute idiot, and had been used as Rose Weasleys falling cushion.

During which I hit my head particularly hard.

She should be fucking grateful, because I actually grabbed her to make sure _**I**_ didn't crush _**her**_ instead. Furthermore, I needed to tell her something, the something having also magically fallen out of my head.

Then, Slyther-fucking-rin lost the match, I'm guessing, because I do remember that curly haired _**thing**_ clamping her hand over the snitch, before we both made our impressive crash landing in front of everyone.

So it was inevitable that I would end up here, in the Hospital Wing. I'm feeling borderline insane at the moment.

Because said Weasley hag is sitting right next to my bed, brown eyes a concoction of anger, madness, tiredness, but also the threat of a fight.

_No surprise there Malfoy, seeing as you slept with her cousin_.

Oh hell, I forgot about that for a minute. Now the whole guilty-evil-motherfucking-sonofadeatheater-pieceofshit is coming straight back to me, and she can see it because she snickers rather loudly.

"Something funny Weasley?" I snarl, half-heartedly I must say, due to the loud ringing in my ears as soon as the first letter comes out of my mouth.

"Yep, your face, that's what's funny." She laughs back. Merlin, I must look bad.

"Seriously Weasley, the whole your face thing is low, even for you." I hear my Malfoy voice conjure up from somewhere. I shift my eyes away from her face and to the high, bleak ceiling of the hospital wing, before I either punch her in the bloody face for staring at me in _**that way**_ that she does, or kiss her, for sitting there and staring at me so, well, Rose-like.

But the most burdening things also happen to be, why the fuck is she here, in the dark, and what in Merlin's name was it that I said to her before she bulldozed me yesterday? (Was it yesterday, or have I been in a coma?)

"Yeah, I guess it is." Comes some quiet and strangely melodious voice from her direction.

And now there's the awkward silence that always follow after something weird like that happens.

But then, after a couple of seconds, I feel like I've re-grown my balls, and I startle Rose/Weasley Hag as I struggle up into a sitting position so I can pretend to glare at her properly.

"So, do you mind if I ask what in hells name your doing here?" I question defensively, my eyes coming to rest on her foot, completely smothered in white bandages and, once again, I feel like a complete and utter idiot.

She stutters around for a minute, then follows my train of vision.

"I think that's obvious." The Weasley says diffidently, almost sounding relieved that she's found and excuse.

"Besides," Her normal voice juts in, whilst her arms fold across her chest all defensively and her walls put themselves back up hastily, "I want an apology and an explanation. _**That's**_ why I'm here; not by choice, obviously."

"Well, details would be nice." I blankly reply, my Malfoy side re-enforcing its armour as well.

"Malfoy, would you care to explain why sleeping with my cousin was a mistake? Is this just some ploy to make me feel sorry for you, or to offend my family a little bit more. Believe me, I know people who can make your life hell if that's what it was about." She starts wittering on angrily, and I really don't have a clue what she's going on about.

"Weasley, what are you…" I start.

But now I remember. Now that horrible sickening feeling's gurgling around in my stomach.

_"Having fun with me Weasley?" I laugh as I speed next to her, arm outstretched towards the snitch._

_"Probably not as much fun as you had with my cousin." Rose sneers back, bitterness all over her face. _

_And then I realize just how much damage I've really done._

_To her, her family and to myself._

_She sees me fall back and a smirk worthy of my grandfather appears; but I've known her for 6 years, and Rose Weasley smirks a lot._

_But not like that, not so emptily. _

_"That was a mistake." I feel my mouth utter quietly as I close my eyes and try to forget._

"I see it's all coming back then." Weasley spits, clearly disgusted as she shakes her head, exasperated.

"Rose, I…" start, now realising that I've just used her first name, which will piss her off major, and I know that I better change tactics or that plaster cast will be in my face pretty soon.

So, perhaps for once, the truth might not hurt; no-body's here to listen in.

"You know, if you weren't such a stubborn cow, you might throw away all the _let's make this sound complicated and irrelevant_. Perhaps, Weasley, it just meant what making a mistake usually means." I strike up again, making sure to re-gain my composure somewhat.

Seriously, the hospital wing, at night, with Rose Weasley staring at you like a 3-headed dog does things with your mind.

"Which is what exactly?" she replies, trying to make it sound as though she doesn't have a clue, wide eyes and pouted mouth.

I roll my eyes back up to the ceiling, breathing in heavily to clear my returning head-ache.

"It means that it should have never happened, that, as suprising as it may be, I wish I hadn't… well, you know, with your cousin. Maybe, Rose Weasley, I'm sorry for what I've done."

And now my heads aching, as I wait for her to break the silence. Of course, that was awkward, painful, a death sentence, you name, that's what it was. It was also slightly liberating.

I mean, I might as well let her know.

After all, she is Rose _**fucking**_ Weasley and she was deadly serious about making my life hell.

And after everything that's happened, perhaps I better start getting my head straight. Now I realise, I mean, I realised after I saw that complete mask of bitterness and hurt on Rose Weasley's face, I dread to think how much pain I've caused her cousin, and her family.

Woah, I'm fucked up.

Remind me to _**never **_hit my head so hard again; it's making me go all gooey and Trelawney like.

"_I want you to know, I really don't give two about who you're friends with ok?" he said again, in the same sorrowful whisper as before._

Now my fathers words come back to me.

Maybe, just maybe, I can put things back to the way they were.

Not friendly, per se, but, you know, normal.

Then I see Weasley's mouth opening.

**So, first of all, a huge sorry for not updating in while. ~****Hides behind desk~**

**Okay, so, forever. I would like to thank-you for your patience in these stressful times **** and if you would like to shoot me down, magically or not, I'm all yours.**

**I'm a bit unsure of this chapter, that's why I've been hanging on to it.**

**I don't want Scorpius to become completely and utterly unhinged, and to start loosing everything we love about him. I just felt the need to put in something that**

**a)Related to Draco's little escapade waaaay back in Chapter 1**

**b)Showed that, even though he's still arrogant and cocky, Scorpius does need to occasionally let down his walls (In a dark hospital wing, with his arch-enemy, who's cousin he's just slept with, who's plotting to completely break him to pieces, I know!) and think a little bit.**

**So, I guess I've annoyed you enough **

**Promise the next Chapter will be out soon-ish.**

**(Hint: It's Rose's POV of this scene, because the story needs that to carry on)**

**Much Love,**

**~MorgeeLove~**


	24. Chapter 23 Something Funny

Chapter 23 ~ Something Funny

So, I _**hate**_ to admit it, but Scorpius Malfoy waking up from virtually a coma, blinking and looking all idiotic like he's only just been born is one of the cutest things I have ever seen in my life.

Almost comparable to Hugo before he decided to grow up. (Jokes!)

It also happens to be the funniest thing I have ever seen, which is why I can't shield the unexpected laugh that happens to pop out of my mouth all girly and Brittan Gomshaw like.

Yuck.

Then he sees I'm here. Shit.

"Something funny Weasley?" He tries to snarl, only after groaning rather loudly at the, what I can only imagine, mega headache you must get whenever you crack your skull open. Again with the humour associated with Malfoy's facial expression, this one's more constipation.

"Yep, your face, that's what's funny." I laugh again, inwardly shaking my head at how _**Hugo**_ and pathetic that just sounded.

_Focus on why you're here Rose. No games other than the one you agreed to play._

Thanks conscience, I love you so much.

So I opt for the stare deep into your worst enemy's amazing but detrimental eyes and try and evoke some sort of emotion before the moment passes. It has an affect, just not the correct one, as usual.

"Seriously Weasley, the whole your face thing is low, even for you." The Malfoy voice comes back at me, sneering and leering all the way, just like before. Honestly, I'm really not sure how Lily and Dom expect me to complete this utterly fucked up plan of theirs. I mean, come on, he's not even looking at me anymore. He's gone all depressed teenager and is currently giving the ceiling death glares.

Jeez.

And I suppose I could go all Weasley on him. But I can't be bothered. I have a broken (well, healing) leg and I'm tired and pissed off beyond belief. There's no point in fighting tonight. Perhaps that'll lead him on.

"Yeah, I guess it is." My voice box produces out of no-where. That was quite scary. I don't think I've ever talked to Malfoy so nicely. **Shudder. **Now here creeps that awkward silence that tends to sneak into conversations when something as utterly otherworldly as that happens.

And Malfoy better say something sharpish, because I really can't be arsed to break the ice.

"So, do you mind if I ask what in hells name your doing here?" he starts all high and mightily, like he knows I'm here to do no-damn-good. Oh fuckity fuckity fucking Merlins mother of balls, what the hell do I tell him?

"I, erm, you see…" I blunder for a second, noticing his eyes had swivelled back down to earth and I follow their line of vision until both of our eyes are gazing weirdly at my foot, all plastered up. I was told I would have to wear bandages, seeing as I damaged my leg pretty badly during my victory dance, before I collapsed.

"I think that's obvious." I sigh off; glad to have not made an utter fool of myself. That was too close to the truth falling right out. Regain composure.

"Besides," I start up in my Weasley voice, crossing my arms as protectors over my chest whilst thinking of a good excuse, "I want an apology and an explanation. _**That's**_ why I'm here; not by choice, obviously."

Yes Rose, so obvious.

"Well, details would be nice." The sneer fires in my direction, with Malfoy's walls hastily re-build themselves as his arms also cross over his chest. Does he mind not copying me, or is he trying to put me off by showing of his rather well formed biceps?

"Malfoy, would you care to explain why sleeping with my cousin was a mistake? Is this just some ploy to make me feel sorry for you, or to offend my family a little bit more? Believe me, I know people who can make your life hell if that's what it was about." I start angrily, replaying the last few days' events and conversations in my head. I just don't understand, and that's horribly frustrating. Mistake? What mistake, what kind? I mean, I don't recall the other 2,000 plus girls he's bedded being mistakes, do you?

"Weasley, what are you…" he starts, trying to look all innocent and like he has no clue what I'm talking about.

Seriously, I'll knock the…

But the look on his face tells me otherwise. Memories obviously flash in front of his eyes, which he probably has forgotten on account of spewing half of his brains over the quidditch pitch earlier.

"I see it's all coming back then." I spit, disgusted but thankful that he managed (or pretended) to remember just how much a prick he was; how much _**more**_ of a prick he was.

"Rose, I…"he starts to stutter. And HOLY SHIT, DID HE JUST USE MY FIRST NAME? Why, the piece of shit. If he honestly thinks he can win himself out of this one how he wins everything else in life, he is sorely mistaken. Trust me, the whole batting the eyelashes and complimenting until you're even more conscious of yourself than ever before, will not work with me, I promise.

Under no circumstances shall I let Malfoy get under my skin, or anywhere near another member of my family's pants.

"You know, if you weren't such a stubborn cow, you might throw away all the _let's make this sound complicated and irrelevant_. Perhaps, Weasley, it just meant what making a mistake usually means." A strange and random voice pipes up from somewhere inside Malfoy's body.

Did he just say that?

It's just it wasn't Malfoy sounding. It was all emotional and real and raw, like proper truthful sounding with nothing fake. Which is terribly weird for him, because it makes me want to believe him. And it's not like he's getting under my skin, or trying to bed me. He just sounds like he's trying to be honest.

It'll be a first, and it's making me feel sick, but perhaps, for the sake of keeping my family, I should try and believe him. Just a bit.

Merlin, I hate moonlit hospital wings.

"Which is what exactly?" I say, trying to look innocent enough for him to let down his guard.

"It means that it should have never happened, that, as surprising as it may be, I wish I hadn't… well, you know, with your cousin. Maybe, Rose Weasley, I'm sorry for what I've done." He says again, the same way he did before. A huge sigh erupts from somewhere inside of him, his eyes close as his head falls back into the pillows. And the look that passes my parents and Uncle Harry's faces when they think no-one's looking is painted all over Scorpius Malfoy's. The want to escape.

Okay, fuck all.

"Look, I'll do you a deal." I say quietly, disturbed at the thought that I'm about to trust Malfoy, the one person I wouldn't even leave to look after a flobberworm.

"Which is?" he half whispers, pushing his hands across his face in an attempt to wipe away the expression, which he usually hides so well.

"Malfoy, I need you to look at me." I almost whisper.

Then the steely grey and blue locks itself against mine and a gulp passes through my throat as I silently pray this will come out of my mouth the right way.

"I'll drop this, and I'll believe you. I won't mention it to Dom and I'll get my lot to call it quits. But, you and I, we need to sort this out. So, I don't care what you think," my eyes drop to my lap in embarrassment "but we have too many lessons and seats next to each other, not to mention prefect patrols, to keep almost sending one-another to our deaths. I propose we…" I blunder, searching through the dark back to Malfoy's eyes for guidance, hoping he understands and has just enough brain to figure out what I'm trying to say.

To my surprise, his hand reaches out towards me.

"Acquaintances enough for you Weasley?" a genuine voice resonates from somewhere I can only describe as his soul. How pathetic am I beginning to sound? But it's nice, I guess its Scorpius.

"Unless you want a repeat of our detention together," I say, blushing at the memories of the veratism, "Acquaintances suits me just fine." I finish, shaking his surprisingly warm hand for closure.

"Okay, Mr Malfoy, I see you're awake. Sorry Miss Weasley, it's past visiting hours now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If anyone asks, you were kept in." the nurses kind voice saunters in from out of the darkness, passing me my crutches from wherever they must have been hiding.

"Night Malfoy. Get better soon." I blush inconspicuously as I stretch up.

"You too." Comes the voice of Scorpius as I begin to walk away.

This might work out after all.

**ThankyouThankyouThankyou!**

**I'm SO sorry about the timing of this, it's taken me so long!**

**Exams -_-**

**Thank-you to anyone who has ever commented/added to your list/added to favorites etc.**

**I do this for you!**

**Love**

**~MorgeeLove~**


	25. Chapter 24 Gold Stars

**AN: Sorry! Thank-you to everyone who still bothers to read this :) LOVE YHOO GIAZ.  
Finally found some space to write this. I'm still actually besotted with these two! **

Chapter 24 – Unexpectedly Close

So, I guess Malfoy and I have stuck to this coalition for the most part. I mean, the perpetual name calling, piss taking and ego battles are still there. But you could say the pure, unexplained hatred that, most definitely was bubbling inside of him but less inside of me, has subsided. And I'm one step closer to going out with this freak and breaking the fucking promise spell.

Then there's just the small matter of "breaking his heart", most likely with a troll hammer because his heart's probably hard as diamonds and as cold as ice. So breaking it might be a challenge.

There's been a glimpse of warmth poking through ever so often over the last week or two, so maybe that won't be so difficult.

I just can't let myself get too attached, or things could end up just plain _**ugly.**_ We've still kept the whole distance thing to an extent; we still do our patrols in separate halves of the castle and piss each other off whenever we have to sit next to each other in lessons. That's just easier and that's just the way it's always been. But seriously, can you imagine the bullshit I'd be in if I "broke" his heart.

Merlin, every single day of my remaining Hogwarts life would just turn awkward, being partners with him for things and all… dear me.

Lily got tremendously excited when I told her my, obviously to her, amazing news, and the way that she reacted you think I'd just brought her a media empire to rule and direct right there, Dom just squealed and started yabbering in French, waaaayy to fast for me to understand.

As for Al and Louis, well, take a wild guess as to how they reacted.

You guessed.

"What in fucks name… are you out of your fucking mind…fucking arsehole…if you could see into his mind, I'm sure you'd reconsider this…" etc etc. For the sons of two highly regard wizards, one of whom gains millions of galleons a year for endorsements and such, they really need to watch their mouths.

However, after I'd once again explained that it is impossible for me to reconsider, seeing as it was not a conscious decision of mine to go out with the fuck head (and that they should both sort out their sisters' warped minds), they agreed to not get involved.

Which includes trying to stop me from doing anything Malfoy related. And considering I really should try and see the freak as often as possible, to try and convince whatever controls the promise spell that we're seeing each other, I've decided to follow up with McGonagall in relation to checking up on Malfoy's prefect progress.

Every Wednesday, 8.30 pm, Library. Which is where I'm headed right now.

I'm shitting my pants, and I don't know why. Probably because this is a load of bullshit, and whilst I'm a good bullshitter under normal circumstances, an intimate meeting with Scorpius fuckhead Malfoy is not normal, at all. And I've said the word shit a few too many times for my liking.

And honestly, I don't think these huge, monstrous looming doors to the library have every looked so horrifying in my life.

Merlin, no wonder people hate the library.

"I see you've finally decided to grace us with your Wizarding-world princess presence." Comes the (whoa) chuckling, but still piss taking, drawl from the body of the Slytherin Sex God, casually teetering backwards on his chair and resting on the bookcase behind. I have the biggest urge to blast his chair legs from underneath him and send his all too perfect arse skidding across the harsh stone floor.

And I evilly snigger to myself as I plop myself down opposite him and shrug my shoulders.

"I guess with popularity comes the power to arrive late to conventions. Besides," I mock, glancing at the clock ticking away on the wall; "I'm, like, two minutes late. Been eagerly waiting for me I see." I laugh, crossing my arms and relaxing down (sort of ) into the wooden chair.

"Nope, just arrived myself, actually." He replies all matter-of-factly.

"I see, right." I laugh, doubting that was true, because according to my father, Malfoy's always retain a sense of perfect timing wherever they go, and even if they are arseholes, they're never late.

I lean down to my bag on the floor and pluck out a folder with various bit of paper hanging out here and there. I've tried to be somewhat organized and create some sort of record chart.

However, in between being a member of the Gryffindor quidditch team, a prefect, an impeccable student (both grades and behaviour, ew), an occasional tutor, a Weasley, a girl who's being forced to try and date a guy she doesn't really like, lessons, extra lessons, homework, interviews, press calls and general life, it's hard to try an organize anything.

Besides, the more detailed someone's diary, the more free time they have.`

"So, Malfoy, here is your performance chart!" I beam, holding up a piece of parchment with an ample box chart drawn out onto it, with space for each day until the end of term. This is all courtesy of Louis, who is surprisingly good at maths and who grudgingly obliged to draw my chart after much persuasion.

"And that is supposed to resemble what exactly?" Snot-Head Scorpius scoffs out, crossing his arms and rocking back on his chair again. He might as well just scream "I'm a Wizarding world celebrity, get me the fuck out of here."

"A progress chart," I state, brushing over his obvious disinterest, "and these are golden stars, to mark your progress." I grin, holding up one of those packets of gold star stickers, like the one's you used to get in Primary school.

"Weasley, just because you're mentoring," *insert Malfoy putting physical inverted commas around mentoring*, "me or whatever, does not give you the ability to treat me like a 5 year old."

"Actually, I think you'll find I can. Anyways, let me explain. If you manage not to end up shagging someone whilst on prefect duty, you get 3 gold stars, if you manage to go the whole of your duty without me finding you with another girl, you get two, doing duty well earns you 1 and not being an arsehole to me earns you 4 and appraisal." I finish, shocked with myself that I'd somehow managed to remember all that.

"Oh, my life is so **fucking brilliant**!" Malfoy cries in mock excitement, giving me the dirtiest look he can muster. That comment earns a well deserved "Shhh!" from the librarian.

I quirk my eyebrows coyly at him.

"Don't act so smug Weasel. And your plan has a flaw, surprisingly for perfect you. How can I be an arsehole to you on duty, when we do duty separately?" Malfoy questions, quirking his eyebrows back.

I don't think he could be any more of a dickhead if he tried.

And that's part of the plan I forgot about, sort of. More like I would like to forget about it. Yes, I have been both asked by McGonagall and forced by my psychotic cousins to monitor Malfoy during prefect rounds by staying with him at all times.

It makes me physically shudder when I have to think about spending in excess of and hour and a half in the company of his highness.

"Yeah, about that. Lucky you, Malfoy, now get to be escorted by yours truly on your prefect rounds. That's how, there is no flaw love." I state, crossing my arms proudly as Malfoy's quirked eyebrows slowly start to droop down into a furrowed look of confusion crossed with anger.

"You what?" he says.


	26. Chapter 25 Not A Match

**A Weasley and A Malfoy Are Not A Match**

"We're doing rounds together." She states slowly, each pathetic word rolling off of her tongue as if she's speaking to a foreigner who doesn't understand English.

"We are not doing fucking rounds with each other!" I yell, slamming my fists down on the table and rising to my feet in anger. Weasley looks a tad shocked if I do say so myself.

"Sorry, I forgot you're an only child used to getting your own way. But we are doing fucking rounds with each other Malfoy. Grow some bigger balls and deal with it, because I don't like this any more than you do. And while your busy doing that, you might want to consider getting your ego and temper deflated." The Weasel snaps. She can think twice about that.

My ego and my temper will explode all over her pretty little face if she's not careful.

"Weasley, are you purposefully trying to get on my tits, or is there something else going on which I'm not quite getting?" I hiss, after a warning look from the librarian, to which Weasley starts to go that copious shad of red which hits her near enough every day. I'm trying to figure out whether it was my comment or the, to her pathetic self, sheer horror of being told of by a member of staff. I'll go with the latter.

"Look Malfoy, I know we agreed that we're going to stop trying to kill each other as often as we breath, however if you don't man the _**fuck**_ up, I will be forced to do something exceedingly unforgivable, and believe me, the sentence in Azkaban will be _**so **_worth it." She spits irately, bright curly head inching towards mine as she grips the table to stop herself from, most probably, punching me in the face.

Merlin forbid, if she dares break my nose …

"You know what Weasley, having free nights to shag thanks to our stalemate and not having to plot your assassination every day is growing on me. I'd rather not give it all up for the sake of your petty reputation with McGonagall."

"You know what _**Malfoy**_?" she glares into my eyes, like she's trying to burn them out with sheer mind power.

"What?" I cry exasperatedly. She starts to frantically shove all of her belongings into her bag, picking up her rather heavy book and my fucking progress chart. She may be a girl, but seeing as she is Rose fucking Weasley, that factor does not, in the slightest, reduce the urge hex her arse to where the many pieces of Voldemort's soul rot and back.

Then, her body quickly moves around the table towards mine.

_Oh fuck._

"!" she screams, slamming me forcefully round either side of my head with her book as she does so.

"What the…" I cry, cradling my head so that bitch doesn't do any more damage. I _**will**_ have her bushy red head for this.

"Rounds, tomorrow, 8.30, together." Weasley calls as she struts out of the library, catching most of the men's eyes and all those who heard our little episode as she makes her _oh so_ dramatic and _oh so_ Rose Weasley exit.

"Yes, your majesty." I mutter sarcastically, stalking out of this godforsaken library before someone else tries to batter my head in with whatever they see fit.

"Mate, your face." Greg laughs as I slump onto my bed. Arguing with that Weasley bitch is such effort.

"Nice joke Greg, for a Slytherin I expect better." I drawl sarcastically, picking up a random magazine from the pile on my bedside table that gets delivered every other morning, courtesy of my father, who says I must be constantly up to date with current affairs.

"No, Scorp, your face." He reiterates more seriously this time, drawing an imaginary circle around a spot on his face where I must have dirt or something on mine.

Considerate Slytherins, always looking out for each other's looks.

I scan the cover of the not so educational _Witch and Wizard_ Magazine, whose feature article was about the Weasley family, which I doubt they have a clue about, reaching down to scratch the side of my face as I do so.

And pain soars up my left cheekbone. Then I remember.

"Fucking Weasley!" I cry, throwing the magazine halfway across the dorm with a temper like McGonagall on menopause.

"Which one now?" Greg chuckles tiredly from over the top of _Wondrous Witches_.

"Rose fucking, UGH!" I bellow from the depths of my four-poster, then rise quickly and kick my trunk hard. Which fucking hurts. That girl is dangerous; she's driving me that livid I'm abusing myself? Now I really will start seeing Thestrals or something.

"Seriously? I don't normally say this, but as your friend, you really need to calm it." Greg says, rolling his eyes.

"Calm down! I want to fucking wring her neck, not _**calm down**_!" I groan, pacing around the room to otherwise occupy my body from doing something to abuse itself further, like fling itself into a wall or off the Astronomy tower.

Greg gets off his bed and walks purposefully towards me, gripping my shoulders.

"How long has it been since you've been with a girl?" he asks me inquisitively. What in Merlin's beard was his reason for bringing this up of all times?

"Zabini, why the fuck is that relevant?" I sigh.

He shakes me this time, "Answer the question Scorpius."

I think. This answer is quite un-Malfoy thinking about it.

"Since that whole fucked up thing with Brittany and Dominique Weasley, none." I reply bluntly, hopefully giving him enough satisfaction to release me from his death grip.

"You see, I knew it!" he cries, obviously immersing himself in his own theories as he waves his arms in the air, with which I sit down on the edge of my bed.

"Greg, I may have been your friend for over six years and be regarded as one of the top students, however one of the wonders of the wizarding world that never fails to surpass me is you and your _I knew it_ moments. Please, for my sanity, explain." I smile weakly, resting my chin in my hands as Greg walks in front of me, ready to start his show or whatever he was about to dictate to me.

"You're sexually frustrated…" he starts. _Oh mother of god_ I think as I laugh out loud. "I'm serious Malfoy. All that bitch does is drive you up the wall every second of every day and I can't be bothered to listen to your womanly shit about it or watch you fling yourself around this dorm. It's creepy and weird, you're a Malfoy, get a grip." He continues matter-of-factly, though now he's starting to smirk, which has me worried. Merlin knows what outrageous things will start running through this boy's head.

"And how, may I enquire, do you propose I get a grip. Also, what the hell does this have to do with sexual frustration?" I question, narrowing my eyes whilst his face starts to light up.

Slytherins looking that amused with themselves is _**never**_ a good sign.

"Your sexually frustrated, you need to get some. You generally frustrated because Rose Weasley won't get out of your hair, or more specifically your head. You need to get some and get some peace and quiet by shutting her up…" he counts of on his fingers.

I cut him off before he really does lose his mind, "Impossible. Shutting her up that is." I state dryly.

"Listen, you blond headed bigot. I propose you get a grip by getting her. Kills two birds with one stone and wow, I'm a genius, I can't believe I didn't suggest this like, 2 years ago." He smiles, eyes glowing at me like the utter garbage he just spat out is the mother miracle or something.

I clap, with a sarcastic look on my face, of course.

"Zabini, congratulations, you've finally gone mad." I drawl.

I, unlike my dear friend here, do not entertain myself in betting with friends on which girls they can get. It's a rule I was brought up on; my mother being the headstrong woman that she is insists I do not treat women or others like prizes or objects. She was terrified I'd become some standard slimy Slytherin bastard. I took her advice on that account.

"The only way your going to shut her up and for my sake, _**yourself**_ up, is to .her." Greg speaks slowly, accentuating heavily on the last three words. Must everyone talk to me like I'm a flobberworm today?

".not." haha, look who's a flobberworm now, Zabini.

"Oh, I see how it is. The great Scorpius Malfoy has finally met his match. I know you better than most people mate, but I never thought it would be curly haired, bad mouth Weasley." He chuckles, shaking his head at me disapprovingly.

"Weasley is not my match!" I cry. It's just offensive to even contemplate.

Greg smirks. He knows he's got me. Damn, he knows me too well.

"Then prove it." He jeers, smiling as he collapses his body next to be, eagling out on the bed.

"Fine, I will." I huff, "That Weasley will never be _**my match**_."

"Whatever you say. You might just be wrong there." I hear him drawl characteristically as I lie down as well.

"Not as wrong as you were about the Hollyhead Harpies winning the league mate." I joke back.

"Do you want to die a slow and painful death?" was the comeback I receive, "Your bet on Chudley Canons was entirely luck."

**I know, I know, you want to kill me.**

**I feel unexplainably guilty too.**

**Next chapter asap!**

**Much love for Greg and his ways right now ;)**


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